DOROTHY  DAY 


WILLIAM  DUDLEY  FOULKE 


62B 


DOROTHY   DAY 


DOROTHY  DAY 


BY 

WILLIAM   DUDLEY  FOULKE 

AUTHOR  OF  "MAYA,"  AND  OF  OTHER  BOOKS 


NEW  YORK 

THE  COSMOPOLITAN  PRESS 
1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 
WILLIAM  DUDLEY  FOULKE 


PREFACE 


Once  when  the  writer  was  examining  a  landscape, 
upon  which  a  castle,  a  lake,  a  fertile  plain,  a  river, 
some  mountains  and  various  other  objects  appeared, 
he  asked  the  artist  from  what  particular  place  the 
scene  was  taken.  The  answer,  given  with  Teutonic 
solemnity,  was:  "Es  ist  componirt!'  Now  it  has 
been  assumed  that  the  following  narrative  is  an 
authentic  autobiography.  This  is  by  no  means  the 
fact,  for  while  recollections  of  personal  experiences, 
as  well  as  the  knowledge  of  what  others  have  done 
and  thought,  have  all  been  very  freely  used;  they 
have  been  combined  with  each  other  and  with  imagi- 
nary occurrences  in  such  a  way  as  to  constitute  no 
true  story  of  the  life  of  any  particular  person,  though 
it  is  hoped  their  main  features  are  essentially  true 
of  a  certain  class  of  persons  who  lived  just  before 
and  during  the  Civil  War,  and  that  they  are  not 
inconsistent  with  the  vital  characteristics  of  human 
nature  itself. 

NAUHEIM,  GERMANY 

August  1,   1911 


2135458 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I — CHILDHOOD 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Home 11 

II.  Mother 21 

III.  Father 34 

IV.  The  Rest  of   the  Household 48 

V.  Our  Friends    and   Neighbors 56 

VI.  My  Occupations 62 

VII.  Grandfather  Dillingham  and  Uncle  Benjamin 66 

VIII.  Our  Summer    Home 74 

IX.  My  Companions  and  Acquaintances 82 

X.  The    Ocean 90 

XL  School 94 

XII.  Supplementary  Education — Commencement 103 

XIII.  Preparing  for  College 110 

BOOK  II — THE  NEW  ERA 

I.  My  Beard 119 

II.  Our  Secret    Societies 124 

III.  Our  Professors 133 

IV.  Our  Escapades 147 

V.  Albert  Visconti 154 

VI.  A  Summer   in    Europe 164 

VII.  The  Days 173 

VIII.  Albert  and  Ethel 185 


BOOK  III— THE  WAR 

I.     The  Call  to  Arms 203 

II.     Army  Life 216 

III.     Soldierly   Characteristics 229 

IV.     The  Invasion  of  Pennsylvania 237 

V.     The  First  Day's  Battle  of  Gettysburg 252 

VI.     The  Battles  on  Cemetery  Ridge 260 

VII.     The  Third  Day's  Battle 272 

VIII.     Dorothy 286 

IX.     Conclusion ....  292 


Book  I 


CHILDHOOD 


DOROTHY    DAY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  HOME 

THE  scenes  and  faces  that  come  forth  from  the 
mist  which  hides  my  childhood,  are  not  often  of  dis- 
tinguished persons  or  of  important  events.  And  yet, 
no  doubt,  they  were  important  to  me  then  or  else 
memory  (though  she  is  capricious  enough  in  choos- 
ing out  of  a  thousand  incidents,  the  single  circum- 
stance that  she  will  cherish)  would  hardly  have  pre- 
served these  few  things  from  amid  the  general 
wreckage  of  forgetfulness.  Naturally  I  recall  the 
main  features  of  the  house  where  I  was  born  and  in 
which  I  passed  the  first  years  of  my  life,  though  even 
here  there  are  only  a  few  outlines  that  come  forth 
distinctly. 

The  house  was  one  of  a  row  of  eight  brick  dwell- 
ings in  a  side  street  in  the  lower  part  of  New  York 
City,  a  neighborhood  which  is  now  in  the  tenement 
house  district,  but  was  then  very  quiet  and  respect- 
able. 

These  eight  dwellings  were  uniform,  except  that 
the  stone  "stoops"  of  the  two  middle  houses  (of 


12  DOROTHY  DAY 

which  ours  was  one)  were  joined  together  and  from 
that  central  point  the  others  seemed  to  my  childish 
imagination  to  slope  away  in  dignity  and  import- 
ance on  each  side  until  they  reached  the  two  streets 
which  formed  the  East  and  West  boundaries  of  this 
little  world.  There  was  also,  as  mother  told  me, 
a  very  important  distinction.  The  four  houses  upon 
our  side  had  been  built  "by  day's  work" — the  other 
four  had  been  put  up  "by  contract"  and  therefore 
leaked  more  and  needed  repairs  oftener  and  were 
in  every  respect  greatly  inferior. 

In  front  of  each  house  there  was  a  little  square 
dooryard  with  a  small  grass  plat  and  a  black  iron 
railing.  I  used  to  examine  the  design  of  that  rail- 
ing with  great  care  in  the  days  when  I  played  in  the 
dooryard,  being  too  little  to  be  trusted  in  that  great, 
seething,  perilous,  unknown  world — the  street. 
Somewhere  amid  the  intricacies  of  the  design  there 
were  smooth  strips  of  iron  that  curled  round  and 
round,  for  I  used  to  put  my  little  fingers  on  the 
inside  of  the  curve  and  follow  it  as  it  grew  smaller 
and  smaller  out  to  the  end.  I  can  feel  now  the 
strange  sensation  and  the  sudden  stoppage  when  the 
iron  with  a  little  final  twist  went  off  into  nothing, 
and  I  had  to  begin  again  and  do  it  over. 

Under  our  "stoop"  was  a  door  opening  into  the 
"entry,"  a  lower  hall,  which  led  through  the  house 
to  the  back  yard,  passing  on  its  way  the  dining- 
room  and  the  kitchen.  On  this  door  was  a  brass 
knocker.  How  well  I  remember  that!  For  every 


DOROTHY  DAY  13 

afternoon,  when  father  came  home,  he  always  gave 
five  raps  upon  it,  first  two  slow  ones  and  then  three 
very  fast,  "Rat — tat — tat-tat-tat" — just  as  a  drum- 
mer beats  his  drum.  That  was  the  mystic  signal  to 
tell  me  it  was  he,  and  I  would  run  flying  to  the  door 
and  bound  into  his  arms  as  he  entered !  And  then  we 
would  have  our  romp  together  on  the  basement 
floor!  But  I  always  thought  it  unfair  that  just 
when  I  was  on  top  and  had  gotten  him  nicely  under 
— and  had  his  hair  or  his  ears  in  my  little  fingers,  he 
would  say,  "There  now!  That  is  enough  for  to- 
day!" when  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  best  of  the 
fun  was  only  beginning ! 

In  a  corner,  by  the  window,  stood  a  rush-bot- 
tomed settee,  a  pretty  piece  of  furniture  and  quite 
old,  for  it  had  been  made  according  to  the  plain  yet 
delicate  taste  of  the  early  part  of  the  century.  On  that 
settee  I  can  see  grandmother,  then  more  than  ninety 
years  of  age,  sitting  in  her  plain  Quaker  garb,  on 
the  day  when  I  first  wore  trousers  and  rushed  madly 
through  the  house  calling  upon  everybody  to  behold 
me  in  my  new  glory.  Whereupon  she  raised  her 
hands  and  exclaimed  "Hoity-toity!" 

That  was  all,  but  it  was  enough.  It  was  the  con- 
centrated essence  of  admiration,  and  no  Roman 
conqueror  returning  with  spolia  opima  after  the 
subjugation  of  an  empire,  in  his  triumphal  march 
through  the  Eternal  City,  ever  relished  the  plaudits 
of  the  throng  with  any  greater  zest  than  I  drank  in 
the  flattery  of  that  exclamation  and  those  upraised 


i4  DOROTHY  DAY 

arms.  The  conqueror,  to  mar  his  joy,  had  at  his  side 
a  slave  reminding  him  that  he  was  still  a  man.  But 
to  me  that  was  the  splendor  of  itl  I  was  a  man, 
indeed,  and  the  proofs  were  there  upon  my  pudgy 
little  legs! 

But  soon  came  the  descent  from  Paradise,  when 
the  skirts  had  to  be  put  on  again  with  tears  and  sobs 
and  the  conviction  that  life  was  not  worth  living. 

The  kitchen,  Katy's  realm — Katy,  the  cook — 
seems  dimmer  to  me.  There  is  the  range  certainly 
and  the  table  at  the  other  side  where  Katy  and 
Nancy  used  to  sew  of  evenings  by  the  light  of  a 
little  whale-oil  lamp,  a  brown,  pear-shaped  bulb, 
perched  upon  the  top  of  a  straight  stalk.  The  wick 
was  pushed  up  by  the  point  of  a  pin  whenever  the 
flame  burned  low.  When  I  tried  to  do  it  the  pin 
always  became  so  hot  I  could  not  hold  it  and  I  won- 
dered how  Katy  dared  put  her  finger  right  into  the 
flame  to  brush  away  the  lampblack.  It  was  at  this 
table  I  learned  how  to  sew,  though  I  never  could 
use  a  thimble,  but  took  the  needle  between  my  thumb 
and  forefinger,  and  if  the  cloth  was  stout  (espe- 
cially at  the  corner  of  a  hem  where  there  were  four 
thicknesses)  I  had  to  push  the  needle  against  the 
table  or  the  wall  to  make  it  go  through. 

Then  I  remember  the  tubs  that  were  brought  forth 
every  Monday  morning  from  some  unknown  depths, 
when  Diana  came  to  do  the  washing. 

Our  Diana  differed  from  the  divine  huntress  in 
many  ways — in  color,  form,  costume  and  calling. 


DOROTHY  DAY  15 

Our  Diana  was  a  "sable  goddess" — her  hue  was 
the  blackest  ebony  that  ever  shone  upon  the  human 
form.  Not  even  old  Abbie,  nor  Anastase,  nor  Peter 
Still  (the  slave  who  bought  his  freedom  and  wrote 
a  book)  could  compare  with  Diana  in  the  midnight 
inkiness  of  her  complexion.  She  was  large  enough, 
however,  to  be  a  dweller  on  Olympus,  being  over 
six  feet  tall.  She  was  raw-boned  and  angular.  Her 
costume  was  less  airy  than  that  of  the  chaste 
Artemis,  and  above  her  head,  in  lieu  of  the  cres- 
cent, there  radiated  the  bright  hues  of  a  wonderful 
bandana ;  in  place  of  bow  and  quiver,  the  washboard 
was  the  constant  symbol  and  implement  of  her  call- 
ing; and  as  for  Actaeon,  he  was  a  small  boy,  and  It 
was  not  the  hounds  nor  the  curses  of  the  deity,  but 
certain  puffs  of  steam  from  the  boiler  on  the  range 
diffusing  an  intolerable  hot  moisture  through  the 
kitchen  that  drove  him  to  flight. 

Our  back  yard  was  laid  out  in  conventional  form. 
There  were  two  rectangular  grass  plats  with  a  stone 
path  between  and  around  them,  and  narrow  flower- 
beds outside  next  to  the  high  board  fence. 

What  treasures  there  were  in  those  flower-beds ! 
The  blue  morning-glories  that  glittered  with  the 
dew,  the  saucy  "johnny-jump-ups"  (for  they  never 
shall  be  pansies  to  me),  the  lady's-ear-drops  and  the 
violets  and,  most  wonderful  of  all,  the  tiger-lilies 
with  petals  orange-red,  upon  which  were  little  black 
specks  that  looked  as  if  you  had  spattered  ink  upon 
them  from  your  pen.  And  from  the  sides  of  the 


1 6  DOROTHY  DAY 

slender  stalk  sprouted  long,  narrow  leaves,  glossy, 
with  little  furrows  running  lengthwise,  and  when  you 
broke  a  leaf  there  were  filaments  like  the  threads  of 
a  spider's  web — one  thread  at  each  furrow — that 
still  held  the  parts  together.  And  then,  just  at  the 
point  where  the  leaf  joined  the  stalk,  there  was  a  little 
brown  ball,  as  small  as  the  smallest  pea,  and  if  you 
pushed  your  thumb  against  it  to  separate  it  from  the 
leaf,  it  felt  as  though  you  were  shelling  peas,  but 
found  only  on  in  the  pod. 

There  were  other  curiosities  in  the  yard — the  little 
communities  of  ants  that  dug  their  dwellings  in  the 
cracks  between  the  flagstones.  Many  an  hour  have 
I  watched  them  during  the  summer  afternoons,  and 
brought  them  crumbs  which  had  to  be  very  fine  so 
that  they  could  drag  them  through  the  hole  in  the 
ant-hill.  Patient,  perservering  little  fellows  they, 
who  worked  with  much  method,  and  who  would  go 
one  to  another  and  lay  their  hands  one  on  another's 
shoulders  and  whisper  together  confidentially  in 
some  ant  language,  and  occassionally  one 'of  them 
would  summon  half  a  dozen  others  and  they  would 
toil  in  unison  upon  a  crumb  bigger  than  the  rest  to 
store  it  in  their  dark  pantry  again  the  winter  time. 
I  was  astonished  at  the  courage  of  the  tiny  crea- 
tures. They  did  not  run  away  from  me  nor  try  to 
hide,  though  I  could  have  trampled  them  all  with 
a  single  pressure  of  my  foot.  I  thought  how  it 
would  scare  me  to  see  a  man  come  walking  by  whose 
foot  was  bigger  than  our  house,  and  I  admired  their 


DOROTHY  DAY  17 

pluck,  as  I  admire  it  still.  So  I  was  very  careful  not 
to  harm  them,  unless  perhaps  the  wheels  of  my  ve- 
locipede may  have  incontinently  crushed  them  as  it 
rattled  over  the  stone  walk. 

Ah !  that  velocipede !  What  a  joy  to  propel  it  by 
the  levers  at  the  side  and  steer  it  with  my  feet 
by  the  small  wheel  in  front.  It  was  as  good  as 
driving  a  coach  and  four!  There  was  the  conscious- 
ness of  power  over  the  little  wooden  beast  whose 
mane  flowed  gracefully  down  from  his  neck  in  front 
of  me.  And  I  found  that  velocipedes,  like  horses, 
are  sometimes  fractious,  for  once  when  I  tried  to 
make  him  go  backward,  my  steed  balked  and  sent 
me  to  the  ground  on  the  back  of  my  head,  giving  me 
my  first  glimpse  of  those  strange  constellations  that 
shine  as  brightly  in  the  daytime  as  they  do  at  night. 

But  I  must  go  back  to  the  house  again.  Above 
the  basement  there  were  three  stories.  The  first  of 
these,  of  course,  was  occupied  by  the  parlors. 
There  were  two  of  them  with  great  doors  of  ma- 
hogany between — doors  that  slid  so  smoothly  upon 
the  rail  beneath,  that  it  was  joy  to  roll  them  back 
and  forth  and  see  them  fit  together  in  the  middle. 
There  was  no  piano,  for  our  family  were  "consist- 
ent Friends."  We  belonged  to  what  was  commonly 
called  the  Hicksite  branch  of  the  Society,  though 
father  did  not  like  the  name.  We  were  "Friends," 
he  said,  or  sometimes  "Our  Friends,"  to  distinguish 
us  from  the  "Orthodox"  "who  went  off  from  us" 
at  the  time  of  the  "separation." 


1 8  DOROTHY  DAY 

With  both  branches  of  the  Society,  however, 
music  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  subtle  agencies  by 
which  the  Prince  of  Evil  corrupts  the  souls  of  men, 
and  now  and  then  a  Friend  was  "disowned"  by  the 
Monthly  Meeting  for  having  a  piano  in  his  house. 

I  remember  one  day  a  new  carpet  was  laid  upon 
the  parlor  floors — a  Brussels  carpet  with  big  brown 
leaves  upon  a  green  ground,  as  if  the  late  Autumn 
had  dropped  its  faded  foliage  from  the  trees  upon 
a  turf  still  green  with  the  verdure  of  the  summer. 
The  carpet  was  plain  enough,  no  doubt,  in  reality — 
yet  what  a  wonderful  work  of  art  did  it  seem  to  my 
child's  eyes! 

And  then  the  window  shades!  They  were  made 
of  light  buff  linen  well  oiled  and  with  a  broad  gilt 
stripe  near  the  edges.  When  they  became  old  and 
dingy,  they  were  removed  and  plain  white  shades 
took  their  places,  and  some  time  afterwards  when  a 
number  of  new  articles  were  purchased  which 
seemed  to  me  "more  worldly"  than  the  sober  furni- 
ture to  which  we  had  been  accustomed,  I  spoke  to 
mother  with  some  concern,  and  asked  her  if  we  were 
not  getting  "too  gay,"  and  she  answered  that  she 
thought  not,  reminding  me  that  the  new  window- 
shades  were  "plainer"  than  the  old  ones. 

Behind  the  parlors  was  the  back  porch  with  a 
stairway  down  to  the  yard  below.  The  floor  of 
the  porch  was  not  painted,  but  the  boards  were  well 
scrubbed,  and  looked  better  and  would  last  just  as 
long,  said  mother,  as  if  they  had  a  dozen  coats.  It 


DOROTHY  DAY  19 

was  under  the  cover  of  this  porch  that  I  used  to  sit 
with  father  and  admire  the  glory  of  the  thunder 
storms,  though  sometimes  I  was  frightened  when 
a  loud  peal  rang  out  and  shook  the  earth.  Here, 
too,  we  watched  a  great  comet  with  its  immense  tail 
that  stretched  half  across  the  heavens.  And  here 
one  night  we  saw  the  sky  gleam  with  a  great,  throb- 
bing, fiery  glare  above  a  lumber-yard  back  of  our 
premises,  and  I  can  remember  the  awe  I  felt  at  the 
wild  flames  that  leaped  as  high  as  a  church  spire, 
flames  that  the  red-shirted  firemen  could  not  quench 
until  all  was  consumed. 

Above  the  parlors  were  the  rooms  of  my  grand- 
parents— grandmother's  in  front,  and  grandfather's 
behind — and  I  had  to  go  by  the  doors  of  these  two 
chambers  very  quietly  on  my  way  upstairs,  for 
grandfather  and  grandmother  were  very  old.  The 
hall  bedroom  belonged  to  Auntie,  and  I  used  to  pass 
the  door  of  that  with  still  greater  awe,  for  one  night 
while  I  was  yet  a  very  little  boy,  I  had  entered  this 
room  and  had  seen  a  dreadful  sight!  There  was 
a  small  foot  bathtub  upon  the  floor.  It  was  very 
dark,  but  the  stars  shone  down  through  the  win- 
dows and  were  reflected  upward  by  the  water  in 
that  tub  until  it  seemed  to  me  there  was  a  deep  hole 
in  the  floor  that  went  clear  through  the  earth  and 
came  out  into  the  starlight  on  the  other  side.  For 
months  afterwards  the  room  was  a  chamber  of 
horrors  to  be  slipped  past  as  quickly  and  stealthily 
as  possible  on  my  way  to  bed. 


20  DOROTHY  DAY 

Our  own  bedroom  was  upon  the  third  floor — 
father's,  mother's  and  mine.  Later,  after  grand- 
mother died,  we  moved  down  to  the  second  floor. 
But  the  upper  room — the  room  where  I  was  born, 
stands  out  most  vividly  in  my  memory.  Here  there 
were  two  beds,  a  broad  one  with  low  bedposts  made 
of  light-colored  wood  and  fashioned  at  the  ends 
into  the  shape  of  large,  smooth  acorns  with  the 
point  of  the  acorn  on  top.  Next  to  this  was  a  nar- 
row bed  with  posts  a  little  higher.  I  lay  in  the  middle 
so  that  I  could  not  fall  out.  But  one  morning 
father  and  mother  went  down  to  breakfast,  leaving 
me  asleep  and,  although  mother  raised  huge  piles 
of  pillows  and  bolsters  on  each  side  of  me  to  make 
escape  impossible,  I  rolled  over  them  and  tumbled 
on  the  floor,  followed  by  a  confused  mass  of  stifling 
thing,  whereupon  I  cried  lustily,  imagining  the  gen- 
eral destruction  of  the  world,  until  all  the  household 
hurried  around  me,  panting  and  exclaiming  and  pity- 
ing me  until  I  was  frightened  more  at  their  terrified 
faces  than  at  the  fall  itself. 


CHAPTER  II 

MOTHER 

NATURALLY,  the  first  features  that  come  to  me 
from  among  the  figures  of  the  past,  are  the  high 
forehead,  the  brown  hair  and  the  tender  gray  eyes 
of  my  mother. 

I  can  hardly  tell  whether  or  not  I  thought  that 
her  face  was  beautiful.  The  idea  of  beauty  did  not 
occur  to  me  in  that  connection.  It  was  a  dear  face, 
for  it  was  mother's — that  was  all. 

But  mother  had  certainly  been  handsome  in  her 
youth  and  had  had  many  admirers.  She  was  the 
youngest  of  the  children  of  Joseph  and  Martha 
Thrivewell,  and  had  been  much  petted  and  perhaps 
a  little  spoiled,  and  I  noticed  that  whenever  there 
was  any  difference  of  opinion  in  the  family,  it  was 
always  her  way  of  thinking  that  prevailed.  She  had 
no  other  children;  all  the  inexhaustible  treasures  of 
her  love  were  concentrated  as  by  a  burning  glass, 
wholly  upon  her  little  son,  and  he  suffered  from 
the  excess  of  her  affection. 

Poor  mother!  I  could  hardly  leave  her  sight! 
Every  draught  of  air,  every  sneeze,  every  mosquito- 
bite  was  the  subject  of  her  most  anxious  care.  She 
had  lost  two  children  in  the  earliest  hours  of  their 
infancy  and  a  third  (my  brother  Freddie)  had  been 


22  DOROTHY  DAY 

carried  off  by  scarlet-fever  when  he  was  only  three 
years  old.  I  was  all  that  was  left  to  her,  and  the 
one  hope  and  aim  of  her  life  was  to  keep  me  from 
the  destroyer  who  had  so  ruthlessly  torn  away  her 
earlier  treasures.  At  the  least  sign  of  a  cough  or  a 
sore  throat  I  was  put  to  bed.  In  winter  I  had  half 
an  hour's  exercise  in  the  back  yard  and  built  my 
little  snow  fort  upon  the  grass  plat  with  a  muffler 
wound  round  and  round  my  neck  up  to  my  ears. 
I  must  not  run  and  "get  over-heated";  I  must  not 
read  "exciting  books" ;  I  must  not  go  out  in  the  night 
air,  nor  in  the  hot  sun,  nor  in  the  rain,  nor  in  the 
morning  while  the  dew  was  on  the  grass.  All  life, 
whichever  way  I  turned,  was  surrounded  by  a  brist- 
ling bayonet  line  of  "don'ts."  Father  used  to  remon- 
strate sometimes  against  making  a  "hot  house 
plant"  of  me,  as  he  called  it,  but  nothing  could  stifle 
the  mad  mother  eagerness,  which  sought  to  shelter 
her  one  remaining  child  even  from  the  lightest 
breath  of  heaven. 

Our  family  physician  was  a  Dr.  Hobson,  a  hale 
old  man,  with  light  eyebrows  and  a  small  brown 
wig  that  did  not  match,  a  man  who  lived  to  be  more 
than  ninety  years  of  age,  and  who  attributed  his 
ruddy  cheeks  and  his  excellent  health  and  spirits  to 
the  strict  diet  which  he  always  observed — no  fruits, 
no  sweetmeats,  no  puddings,  no  pies,  no  coffee,  no 
buckwheat  cakes.  He  was  a  man  filled  with  the 
idea  that  what  had  been  so  good  for  him  ought  to 
be  good  for  everybody. 


DOROTHY  DAY  23 

"Buckwheat  cakes,  madam!  Why,  a  single  buck- 
wheat cake  would  set  my  head  whirling  like  a  top ! 
The  boy  must  never  touch  them!" 

I  often  wondered  at  this,  for  grandfather,  who 
was  also  ninety  years  old  (ninety  seemed  to  me  a 
mystic  number),  had  every  morning  a  pile  of  buck- 
wheat cakes  upon  his  plate  for  breakfast,  and  they 
never  seemed  to  hurt  him.  But  boys  and  grand- 
fathers were  very  different  things  ! 

Even  water,  according  to  the  good  doctor,  was 
very  dangerous,  and  once  when  he  was  told  that  I 
had  taken  two  whole  tumblerfuls  at  one  time,  he 
came  close  to  my  bedside  and  said  to  me  in  a  low, 
solemn  tone:  "If  you  keep  doing  such  things  as 
that,  you'll  never  grow  big."  At  first  I  wondered 
whether  I  was  to  be  a  dwarf  like  Tom  Thumb,  then 
it  occurred  to  me  that  he  meant  I  would  die. 

But,  according  to  the  doctor,  although  there  were 
very  few  things  that  were  good  to  eat,  yet  there  were 
a  great  many  medicines  that  were  good  to  take  when 
you  were  ill,  and  these  were  the  very  vilest  and 
nastiest  of  all. 

Mother  used  to  say  she  liked  the  doctor  because 
he  gave  so  little  medicine,  and  dangerous  medicines 
like  calomel  he  hardly  ever  prescribed.  But  the  things 
he  gave  were  bad  enough  in  all  conscience.  Castor 
oil  (whose  supposed  virtues  corresponded  with 
its  awful  taste),  cod-liver  oil,  salts  and  senna,  ginger 
tea,  and,  worse  than  these,  enormous  doses  of  sweet, 
sickening  ipecac !  Every  few  weeks  I  had  an  attack 


24  DOROTHY  DAY 

of  croup.  I  have  reason  to  think  now  that  these 
visitations  were  of  the  most  trifling  character  and 
all  that  I  needed  was  to  be  let  alone,  but  I  had  to 
lie  for  days  in  bed  studying  the  figures  on  the  quit 
before  me,  and  taking  great  spoonfuls  of  that  hor- 
rible stuff,  the  object  of  which  was  to  make  me  sick 
at  my  stomach,  an  object  which  it  always  accom- 
plished. At  last  the  mere  sight  and  smell  of  the 
detestable  medicine  was  quite  enough.  It  would 
fulfil  its  mission  before  a  drop  had  passed  my  lips. 
While  I  was  ill  my  diet  consisted  of  toast,  "cambric 
tea"  and  "panada,"  a  compound  of  soda  crackers,  a 
very  little  sugar  and  a  great  deal  of  warm  water. 
I  used  to  wonder  what  it  was  that  made  the  pieces 
grow  so  big,  and  why  there  was  so  much  cracker 
and  so  little  taste  after  they  were  put  in  the  water. 

Once,  when  Dr.  Hobson  was  ill,  mother  called  in 
Doctor  Senf,  who  lived  near  by,  but  the  only  dif- 
ference I  could  see  was  that  Dr.  Senf  came  oftener 
and  made  me  lie  in  bed  a  great  deal  longer — long 
after  I  was  well — so  that  I  became  quite  reconciled 
to  Doctor  Hobson. 

Whenever  I  went  out  into  the  street,  mother  al- 
ways went  with  me.  She  would  not  trust  me  to  my 
nurse,  nor  to  my  father,  nor  even  to  Auntie. 
Mother's  walks  were  generally  for  shopping  pur- 
poses, which  seemed  to  me  a  dreary  business — there 
were  so  many  things  that  would  not  fit,  or  for  some 
reason  would  not  do. 

I  was  a  lonely  boy,  being  the  only  child  in  the 


DOROTHY  DAY  25 

house  and  having  few  companions,  for  mother  was 
as  much  afraid  of  the  blighting  influence  of  other 
children  as  she  was  of  the  night  air.  Once  in  a  long 
while  Georgie  Underwood  or  Roger  Baker  came  to 
see  me,  or  perhaps  little  Nellie  Taylor,  but  most  of 
my  time  was  spent  either  alone  or  with  grown-up 
people.  I  had  not  even  a  dog,  nor  a  bird,  nor  a 
pussy  cat,  and  my  playthings  were  not  only  inani- 
mate, but  there  was  always  a  dose  of  instruction  in 
them.  Even  my  cardboard  games,  so  interesting  on 
account  of  the  beautiful  pictures,  had  vast  stores  of 
unwelcome  admonition,  and  as  I  shook  the  dice  and 
made  spasmodic  and  halting  progress  along  the 
"River  of  Life"  to  the  "Temple  of  Wisdom"  at 
the  end  I  found  that  25,  "Industry"  always  told  me 
to  go  to  47,  "Success"  and  31,  "Cruelty"  to  go  back 
to  14,  "Remorse."  So  continuously  did  a  moral  be- 
set my  path  that  I  came  to  believe  like  the  Duchess 
of  "Alice  in  Wonderland,"  that  there  must  be  "a 
moral  in  everything  if  you  can  only  find  it,"  until  in 
disgust  I  used  to  wonder  why  a  boy  could  not  be 
allowed  to  do  some  useless  thing  just  for  the  fun 
of  it. 

Thus  it  was  I  became  a  solemn  little  fellow,  old  in 
some  ways  beyond  my  years,  yet  in  most  things  un- 
speakably green  and  unsophisticated.  I  think  that 
fifty  years  ago  the  grown-up  world  did  not  have 
quite  the  sympathy  with  the  child  life  that  it  has  now. 
We  have  to-day  our  kindergartens  and  our  various 
systems  for  sugar-coating  the  pill  of  instruction. 


26  DOROTHY  DAY 

Flogging  is  almost  unknown,  the  flames  of  hell  have 
lost  much  of  their  terrors,  and  fear  is  everywhere  a 
less  potent  factor  in  the  government  of  mankind. 
As  Gladstone  says:  "We  have  lived  into  a  gentler 
time,"  and  human  happiness  has,  on  the  whole, 
been  greatly  promoted  by  the  change.  And  yet  in 
all  this  gain  perhaps  there  has  been  something  of  a 
loss  as  well.  The  character  that  develops  accord- 
ing to  its  own  methods,  untrammeled  by  limitations 
from  without,  may  grow  more  luxuriantly,  but  it 
sometimes  shows  the  need,  as  well  as  the  lack,  of 
pruning.  The  youth  who  grows  to  manhood  with 
no  restraint  has  little  power  to  "rule  his  own  spirit" 
and  set  himself  with  dogged  determination  to  the 
doing  of  those  tiresome  and  unpleasant  things  which 
still  have  to  be  done,  if  life  is  to  be  lived  success- 
fully. Drudgery,  like  adversity,  has  its  sweet  uses. 
Mother  taught  me  to  read  and  taught  me  well, 
but  the  range  of  the  reading  allowed  me  was  very 
narrow.  Fairy  tales  and  nursery  rhymes,  as  well  as 
dramas  and  novels  were  forbidden.  "Robinson 
Cruscoe"  and  the  "Arabian  Nights"  were  unknown 
to  me  until  I  could  no  longer  read  them  with  the 
relish  of  youth.  Even  "Mother  Goose's  Melodies" 
came  into  my  hands  by  accident,  for  mother  had 
asked  father  to  bring  me  a  new  game  called 
"Mother  Goose,"  which  had  been  advertised  in  the 
newspapers,  and  he,  misunderstanding  the  message, 
had  brought  me  the  rhymes,  all  with  appropriate 
pictures.  He  had  to  take  the  book  back  at  once 


DOROTHY  DAY  27 

and  exchange  it  for  the  game,  but  fortunately  he 
had  brought  it  home  upon  "Seventh  Day"  evening, 
and  he  could  not  return  it  until  "Second  Day"  morn- 
ing, so  I  had  the  intervening  Sabbath  for  my  profit. 
I  know  not  how  I  came  to  be  left  alone  with  that 
book,  but  so  prodigious  was  my  hunger  for  such 
things  and  so  excellent  my  memory  that  by  Monday 
morning  I  knew  nearly  every  rhyme  in  that  little 
blue  volume  from  beginning  to  end — "Hiccory,  Dic- 
cory,  Dock,"  "Humpty  Dumpty,"  and  all  the  rest  of 
them.  After  that  I  did  not  need  the  book.  I  had  it 
all  in  my  delighted  little  head — and  it  has  remained 
there  down  to  the  date  of  these  presents. 

Shakespeare  was  kept  out  of  the  house  as  a  dan- 
gerous character.  Fiction  in  verse  was  for  some 
occult  reason  considered  less  harmful  than  fiction  in 
prose,  provided  the  story  itself  was  unobjectionable. 
Thus,  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake"  was  a  favorite, 
while  "Marmion"  was  forbidden  ground.  Books 
of  adventure,  as  is  well  known,  are  pitfalls  for  any 
boy  whose  parents  intend  that  he  shall  lead  a  sober 
and  sensible  life.  I  used  to  hear  from  others  of  the 
wonders  of  Mayme  Reid,  but  all  the  delights  of  his 
wild  tales  were  barred  from  me  until  one  of  my 
friends  loaned  me  "The  Scalp  Hunters."  I  had  to 
hide  it  under  the  sofa  in  the  parlor  and  creep  in  to 
devour  it  when  no  one  was  near.  Oh,  what  a  glory 
it  would  be,  thought  I,  to  lead  the  life  there  de- 
picted! Amid  scenes  of  carnage  and  hair-breadth 
escapes  there  were  a  few  pages  devoted  to  a  young 


28  DOROTHY  DAY 

girl  of  great  alleged  attractions,  called  Zoe.  What 
a  creature  she  was !  And  what  a  name !  For  years 
afterward  whenever  I  saw  a  fair  face,  the  name 
seemed  to  fly  to  it  and  become  part  of  the  beauty 
that  I  worshiped. 

History  formed  a  large  part  of  the  literature  al- 
lowed me  and  I  absorbed  it  eagerly.  Having  been 
told  to  "take  exercise,"  and  there  being  no  other 
exercise  to  take  indoors,  I  would  throw  my  india- 
rubber  ball  over  and  over  against  the  wall  above 
the  kitchen  range  and  catch  it  on  the  first  bounce 
from  the  floor,  and  when  I  could  stand  this  no  longer 
I  would  rush  off  to  my  Roman  history  and  devour 
some  thrilling  episode  like  the  "Assanation  of  Julius 
Caesar,"  as  I  called  it  when  I  told  the  story  to  a 
young  friend  and  we  talked  of  it  in  solemn  whispers 
together. 

I  wonder  if  any  boy  ever  enjoyed  the  study  of 
geography  as  I  did,  while  I  lay  on  my  stomach  on 
the  floor  and  pored  over  the  atlases  and  imagined 
I  was  traveling  through  the  strange  lands  they  de- 
scribed. So  well  did  I  learn  the  contour  of  the  con- 
tinents that  I  could  draw  them  pretty  accurately 
without  looking  on  the  map  at  all.  For  some  rea- 
son not  very  clear,  Africa  was,  of  all  the  great  di- 
visions of  the  world,  by  far  the  most  seductive. 
There  was  a  charm  about  its  shape,  and  the  great 
tract  marked  "unexplored"  that  looked  so  plain 
and  empty  (a  tract  which  has  now  vanished),  filled 
me  with  an  irresistible  desire  to  go  and  find  out 


DOROTHY  DAY  29 

what  was  in  it — a  desire  that  was  further  stimulated 
by  reading  some  of  Uncle  Ephraim's  books  of  ex- 
plorations upon  the  outskirts  of  that  unknown 
region.  Next  after  Africa  came  Greenland,  then 
South  America — all  the  places  in  short  that  were 
far  off  and  inaccessible.  Perhaps  my  preference 
was  part  of  the  same  instinct  that  has  led  me  in  later 
years  to  eschew  the  beaten  lines  of  travel  and  to 
prefer  by-ways  and  the  remote  valleys  and  the  inns 
that  are  not  laid  down  in  Baedecker.  In  short,  it  is 
part  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  instinct  of  the  explorer,  a 
childish  impulse,  if  you  will,  but  one  that  has  led  to 
the  domination  of  that  race,  and  is  leading  America 
to-day  upon  its  world  career. 

What  boy  is  there  who  sees  no  vistas  of  glory 
opening  before  him?  I  had  many  such — among 
them  a  dream  as  wild  as  Alexander's,  for  by  untold 
exertions  and  acts  of  heroism  I  was  some  day  to 
win  for  myself  the  universal  scepter  over  all  man- 
kind, and  when  I  looked  upon  the  map  of  the  world 
for  some  central  location  on  which  to  establish  my 
capital — some  place  equally  accessible  to  both  con- 
tinents— it  seemed  to  me  that  the  Azores  occupied 
a  place  which  would  be  generally  convenient  for 
everybody,  quite  handy  to  Europe  and  Africa,  and 
not  so  very  far  from  America.  From  such  a  van- 
tage ground  I  felt  I  could  deal  impartially  with 
both  continents  and  give  humanity  a  reign  of  un- 
paralleled beneficence.  When  I  saw  the  Azores 
many  years  afterwards  they  did  not  seem  quite  so 


30  DOROTHY  DAY 

fit  a  place  as  I  had  thought.  I  always  kept  very 
quiet  about  this  scheme  of  world  empire,  however, 
for  somehow  I  feared  that  even  my  best  friends 
might  laugh  at  it. 

But  this  was  only  one  of  my  dreams.  I  was  also 
going  to  be  a  great  poet.  One  of  the  notes  to 
"Paradise  Lost"  had  said  that  epic  poetry  was  the 
noblest  kind,  so  I  planned  great  epics  which  were 
to  surpass  the  masterpieces  of  Milton,  and  I  tried 
to  find  some  heroes  more  "sublime"  than  his.  But 
my  quest  was  like  the  conundrum:  "What  is  greater 
than  God,  worse  than  the  devil,  and  kills  a  man  if 
he  eats  it?"  and  the  answer  to  my  search  was  the 
same:  "Nothing  at  all."  Milton  had  found  the 
greatest.  Even  an  epic  with  George  Washington 
for  its  hero  would  hardly  be  quite  so  sublime  as 
"Paradise  Lost" ! 

I  saw  myself  in  imagination  leading  vast  armies 
in  procession  to  some  unknown  pinnacle  of  glory, 
and  to  give  my  fancy  tangible  shape,  I  collected 
great  multitudes  of  spools  and  then  lifting  the  leaves 
of  the  mahogany  dining-table,  I  arranged  these  in 
companies  and  regiments  upon  its  ample  surface, 
according  to  the  size  of  the  spools.  The  biggest 
one  was  the  commander  in  chief  (that  was  I).  The 
next  in  size  were  just  plain  generals — then  followed 
the  colonels,  the  captains  and  the  smallest  of  all 
were  the  privates,  which,  like  the  soldiers  in  the 
late  Cuban  war,  bore  a  very  small  ratio  to  the  num- 
ber of  officers  who  commanded  them.  The  troops 


DOROTHY  DAY  31 

on  my  side  were  white  spools,  and  those  on  the 
other  side  were  black  ones.  My  order  of  battle  was 
taken  from  my  observation  of  the  target  companies 
that  passed  the  door,  and  there  was  never  any 
doubt  upon  which  side  would  perch  the  eagles  of 
victory. 

Yet  with  all  these  dreams  of  military  fame,  I  was 
greatly  frightened  by  loud  and  sudden  noises.  This 
fear  dated  from  early  childhood  when  once  a  loco- 
motive just  opposite  the  window  of  the  railway  car 
at  which  I  sat  gave  a  wild  shriek  which  nearly  sent 
me  into  convulsions.  I  never  got  over  the  effect  of 
it,  and  for  a  long  time  I  was  afraid  to  watch  even 
those  target  companies  and  hear  the  great  drum 
go  bang,  but  used  to  run  back  to  the  kitchen  and 
there,  supported  by  Katy  as  a  strong  reserve,  1 
would  peep  through  the  keyhole  till  the  band  had 
gone  by.  Then  I  would  rush  out  to  watch  the 
"soldiers"  and  the  colored  man  who  carried  behind 
them  the  target  with  a  big  wreath  upon  it  for  the 
victor. 

Since  fairy  tales  were  denied  me,  I  knew  little  of 
that  dread  of  ghosts,  hobgoblins,  genii  and  evil 
spirits  which  so  often  besets  the  path  of  childhood. 
My  fears  took  quite  another  shape.  I  had  a  big 
book  on  natural  history,  and  the  dreadful  beasts 
which  were  shown  and  described  in  its  pages,  the 
bears,  wolves,  lions,  tigers  and  mighty  serpents  filled 
me  with  awe.  Worst  of  all  there  was  a  picture  of  a 
terrific  hippopotamus  with  wide-open  jaws  and  big, 


32  DOROTHY  DAY 

distorted  teeth,  so  dreadful  that  I  used  to  turn  over 
the  leaf  quickly  whenever  I  came  upon  it.  As  I 
went  up  to  bed  I  would  pass  all  the  dark  corners 
very  fast  lest  some  of  these  monsters  should  sud- 
denly pounce  out  upon  me,  and  I  often  looked  under 
the  bed  to  be  sure  that  some  bear,  or  perhaps  an 
awful  hippopotamus  was  not  there  to  swallow  me  up 
after  I  had  gone  to  sleep. 

Mother  encouraged  me  in  the  habit  of  making  a 
silent  prayer  before  going  to  bed,  but  as  I  used  to 
stay  on  my  knees  a  long  while  she  at  last  became 
curious  to  know  what  all  this  praying  was  about. 
I  did  not  want  to  tell  her,  but  at  last  I  owned  that 
I  was  asking  the  Lord  if  there  were  any  lion,  tiger, 
bear,  wolf,  snake,  rhinoceros,  elephant  or  hippo- 
potamus in  the  house,  that  he  would  send  them  away 
quick  and  not  let  them  get  hold  of  me. 

There  was  one  book  that  used  to  excite  me,  how- 
ever, as  much  as  any  ghost  story  could  possibly  do, 
and  that  was  "Pilgrim's  Progress."  The  Castle  of 
the  Giant  Despair  filled  me  with  indescribable  ter- 
rors, and  once  when  I  was  reading  about  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  I  saw  the  type  in  front  of 
me  grow  smaller  and  smaller  and  then  go  far  away, 
miles  and  miles  away,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  and  yet  I 
could  read  it  all  the  same,  and  I  went  on  reading 
till  I  was  nearly  beside  myself  for  fear — and  tossed 
upon  my  bed  in  sleepless  agony  all  night. 

When  I  played  in  the  front  dooryard  I  had  a 
constant  dread  of  a  big  boy  who  came  from  some- 


DOROTHY  DAY  33 

where  around  the  corner.  He  would  pass  back  and 
forth  on  the  sidewalk,  just  outside  the  iron  fence 
and  challenge  me.  "If  you  want  to  fight,  just  come 
out  here  and  I'll  lick  you!"  And  he  shook  his  fist 
and  looked  very  dangerous.  "But  I  don't  want  to 
fight,"  I  answered.  "Then  why  don't  you  say  so!" 
he  replied,  lifting  his  head  high,  and  stalked  away, 
filled  with  conscious  pride  at  his  triumph  in  the  art 
of  repartee! 

As  I  was  a  delicate  lad  and  had  been  kept  indoors 
without  physical  training,  I  was  at  great  disadvan- 
tage in  such  fights  as  were  occasionally  forced  upon 
me.  Frank  Fisher,  a  neighbor  boy  smaller  than  I, 
could  generally  throw  me  or  knock  me  down.  Even 
after  I  went  to  school  I  was  often  the  victim  of  some 
stronger  and  sturdier  lad  "of  my  own  size,"  though 
by  that  time  I  had  come  to  take  my  punishment 
quite  stoically.  It  was  not,  however,  until  I  went 
to  college  that  I  learned  in  the  "rushes"  and  melees 
to  take  my  own  part  effectually,  and  began  to  enjoy, 
as  a  boy  ought  to  do,  the  "rapture  of  the  fight." 


CHAPTER  III 

FATHER 

NEXT  to  mother,  father  was  the  most  important 
person  in  my  little  world.  He  was  a  tall,  fine-look- 
ing man,  about  forty  years  of  age  as  I  first  remem- 
ber him,  with  clean  shaven  face  and  a  Roman  nose. 
The  latter  had  become  a  sort  of  trade-mark  in  his 
family.  A  little  way  off  I  could  hardly  tell  his  pro- 
file from  that  of  Uncle  Samuel,  his  elder  brother. 
Father  was  a  man  of  commanding  presence,  he  had 
eyes  of  grayish  blue,  an  expressive  mouth,  thick, 
waving  hair  and  a  high  broad  forehead — a  forehead 
that  became  higher  still  as  the  years  went  by. 

Father  wore  'the  plain  clothes"  of  the  Quakers, 
not  the  drab  or  gray,  indeed,  but  a  black  broadcloth, 
the  coat  with  standing  collar  from  which  the  front 
edge  curved  in  graceful  outline  down  to  the  end  of  the 
tail.  Certainly  father  always  looked  well  in  his 
plain  clothes,  and  it  may  be  that  under  them  there 
was  as  much  pride  of  personal  appearance  as  in  the 
"gayer"  and  more  profane  garments  of  the  world's 
people. 

Father  at  heart  was  one  of  the  kindest  of  men, 
but  I  have  seen  him  assume  a  most  ferocious  ap- 
pearance when  dealing  with  juvenile  offenders, 
which  frightened  the  little  rascals  half  to  death.  1 


DOROTHY  DAY  35 

remember  one  instance  in  particular.  We  had  a 
catalpa  tree  growing  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  our 
house,  with  big  leaves  and  long  pods  which,  when 
dry,  the  boys  in  the  neighborhood  would  use  for 
make-believe  cigars,  smoking  them  proudly  like 
grown-up  men.  They  would  scramble  up  the  tree 
box  and  out  upon  the  limbs,  often  breaking  down 
the  smaller  branches,  and  mutilating  the  tree.  One 
fellow  was  very  persistent,  and  though  warned  to 
desist,  climbed  the  tree  again  and  again  and  did 
considerable  damage.  One  afternoon  father  spied 
him  up  among  the  branches,  went  out  to  the  foot  of 
the  tree  and  ordered  him  down.  The  boy  descended 
trembling  to  the  sidewalk.  There  was  a  frown  as 
black  as  night  on  father's  countenance  while  he  took 
the  fellow  by  the  shoulders  down  the  front  area, 
through  the  door,  along  "the  entry''  and  out  into  the 
back  yard.  The  terror  on  the  face  of  the  culprit 
could  not  have  been  greater  if  he  had  been  passing 
through  that  dreadful  portal  whose  inscription  bids 
him  that  enters  abandon  every  hope.  The  urchin 
had  a  little  shaking  in  the  yard  and  then,  howling 
with  fear,  was  suffered  to  depart,  while  father  with 
a  hearty  laugh  remarked  to  us  that  he  didn't  think 
we  would  ever  be  troubled  by  that  boy  again. 
Father  very  seldom  used  that  frown  on  me.  I  knew 
it  too  well.  He  was  indeed  quite  indulgent,  relying 
upon  mother  (as  well  as  he  might)  to  keep  me  in  the 
narrow  way. 

Now  father,  although  he  had  seen  much  of  the 


3  6  DOROTHY  DAY 

world,  had  a  great  deal  of  childlike  simplicity.  He 
had  been  successful  in  his  business  investments,  and 
once  he  told  me  in  confidence  the  secret  of  it:  "I 
buy  these  bonds,"  he  said  one  day  to  me  when  he 
was  cutting  off  the  coupons,  "when  they  are  low;  I 
hold  them  till  they  rise  in  price;  then  I  sell  them." 
How  plain  it  all  was! 

I  often  wonder  now  that  he  was  not  made  the 
"lamb"  of  some  intriguing  speculation  and  that  he 
ever  had  anything  left.  The  luck  which  went  with 
the  Roman  nose  must  have  stood  him  in  good  stead, 
as  it  often  has  his  son,  but  the  result  he  always  at- 
tributed to  his  judgment  and  sagacity. 

Part  of  father's  simplicity  was  shown  in  his  un- 
shaken faith  in  the  descriptive  power  of  adjectives, 
especially  those  of  the  superlative  degree.  When- 
ever he  would  describe  to  us  some  remarkable  work 
of  nature  or  art  which  he  had  seen,  he  told  us  that 
it  was  "gorgeous,  magnificent,  superb,  tremendous, 
awe-inspiring,  most  impressive,"  etc.,  these  adjec- 
tives being  considered  by  him  as  quite  adequate  for 
the  understanding  of  all  details. 

I  had,  as  I  already  said,  an  early  inclination  to- 
ward poetry.  I  made  verses  before  I  could  write, 
verses  from  which  great  things  were  predicted,  espe- 
cially by  father,  who  used  to  act  as  my  amanuensis 
and  take  down  the  "winged  words"  in  which  my 
inspirations  were  embodied.  Among  these  there 
were  some  stanzas  to  "My  Heart,"  while  I  was  still 
a  very  little  fellow,  which  used  to  give  him  great 


DOROTHY  DAY  37 

satisfaction,  not  so  much  (as  I  have  good  reason  to 
think)  on  account  of  their  artistic  merit,  as  because 
of  the  evidence  which  they  gave  of  the  "Light  With- 
in" which  I  had  declared  to  be  the  source  of  great 
enjoyment. 

An  "Ode  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte"  met  with  no 
such  approval,  for  although  the  lines  did  not  indi- 
cate any  intention  of  fighting  either  for  or  against 
that  military  hero,  but  merely  the  comparatively 
innocent  purpose  of  going  to  see  him,  yet  the  desire 
even  to  visit  such  a  man  indicated  a  tendency  which 
might  lead  to  worse  things,  so  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  the  leaf  upon  which  my  lines  were  tran- 
scribed was  soon  afterwards  destroyed. 

Although  father  was  proud  of  me,  yet  whenever 
he  spoke  of  my  brother  Freddie,  who  had  died,  I 
felt  how  small  I  was  by  the  side  of  such  a  prodigy. 
Father  would  tell  me  with  tears  in  his  eyes  of  the 
wise  sayings  and  doings  of  the  child  whose  dreamy 
face  gazed  at  me  full  of  tenderness  from  the  shin- 
ing surface  of  a  daguerreotype  that  father  showed 
me,  holding  it  while  I  looked,  lest  I  might  let  it  fall 
and  some  harm  come  to  the  precious  thing. 

The  impression  of  my  brother's  countenance  upon 
the  plate  was  a  faint  one;  it  might  almost  have  been 
the  copy  of  his  spirit,  and  I  had  to  hold  it  at  the 
right  angle  or  else  I  would  see  the  reflection  of 
things  about  the  room  and  not  the  face  of  the  cher- 
ished boy. 

Father  told  me  much  of  Freddie's  last  sickness — 


3  8  DOROTHY  DAY 

how  the  little  fellow,  when  he  could  no  longer  lie  in 
bed,  asked  his  father  to  hold  him  and  walk  with 
him  back  and  forth  across  the  room  and  how  he 
had  died  thus  in  his  father's  arms.  I  was  told  that 
I  had  been  a  chubby,  good-natured  baby — which 
was  well  attested  by  another  daguerrotype  in  which 
I  appeared  in  a  little  red  plaid  dress — but  was  by 
no  means  such  a  child  as  Freddie.  The  lost  treasure 
is  ever  the  most  precious  to  the  father's  heart. 

I  used  to  read  a  good  deal,  especially  in  the  Bible, 
about  the  rich  and  the  poor,  and  how  hard  it  was 
for  the  rich  man  to  go  to  heaven,  and  I  once  asked 
father  whether  we  were  rich  or  poor.  He  told  me 
that  we  were  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  and  that 
we  belonged  to  that  middle  class  which  he  said  was 
of  all  in  the  happiest  condition,  and  he  used  to  re- 
peat to  me  the  solemn  prayer  whose  beauty  and 
wisdom  have  grown  even  greater  in  my  eyes  after 
the  experiences  of  a  lifetime: 

"Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches — feed  me  with  food  con- 
venient for  me, 

Lest  I  be  full  and  deny  Thee  and  say:    Who  is  the.  Lord? 

Or  lest  I  be  poor  and  steal  and  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  my 
God  in  vain." 

As  father  grew  older  he  became  even  finer  look- 
ing than  he  had  been  before.  How  well  I  remem- 
ber him  as  he  sat  "at  the  head  of  the  meeting"  in 
our  plain,  yet  tasteful,  meeting-house.  Here  at  his 
side  and  on  the  seat  below,  facing  the  congregation, 


DOROTHY  DAY  39 

sat  a  number  of  stately  looking  men.  I  have  never 
seen  a  group  of  finer  faces  and  figures.  There  be- 
side father  sat  Joseph  Hatfield,  tall,  erect  and  rev- 
erend, and  Jeremiah  Fox,  kind  and  benignant,  while 
in  the  seat  below  were  Joshua  Trueblood,  whose 
thick  hair,  perfectly  white,  covered  a  noble  fore- 
head and  a  smooth-shaven  ruddy  face,  and  Samuel 
Braithwaite,  an  old  gentleman  of  imperial  mien  and 
a  benevolent  yet  determined  countenance.  They  sat 
there  in  simple  gravity,  the  silence  broken  only  when 
some  one  was  moved  to  speak — until  the  time  came 
for  father  and  Joseph  Hatfield  to  "shake  hands" 
together  and  thus  break  up  the  meeting.  And  I 
can  well  remember  once  when  two  crazy  men  hap- 
pened to  come  to  meeting  one  First  Day  morning — 
one  of  them  imagining  that  he  was  Christ  and  the 
other  that  he  was  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  they  each 
harangued  and  screamed  defiance  at  each  other,  but 
instead  of  sending  for  a  policeman,  father  and 
Joseph  Hatfield  shook  hands  and  the  meeting  quiet- 
ly dispersed. 

Father  was  very  careful  to  train  me  in  good, 
wholesome  Quaker  traditions.  All  the  stories  of 
the  sufferings  of  early  Friends  were  related  to  me, 
the  whippings  at  the  cart-tail,  the  boring  of  their 
tongues  with  red-hot  iron,  the  imprisonments  and 
occasional  executions,  and  their  marvelous  con- 
stancy and  non-resistant  heroism,  as  well  as  the 
manifestations  of  Divine  Grace  toward  them,  were 
set  forth  in  glowing  colors. 


40  DOROTHY  DAY 

There  were  incidents  which  seemed  to  me  as  won- 
derful as  the  Bible  miracles,  strange  enlightenings 
by  the  Holy  Spirit  and  prophetic  visions,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  account,  always  turned  out  true.  Father 
told  me  of  the  marvelous  doings  of  George  Fox, 
Robert  Barclay  and  William  Penn,  and  he  was  much 
exasperated  at  Macaulay's  strictures  upon  Penn  and 
his  description  of  the  "courtly  Quaker"  as  a  "mythi- 
cal character." 

We  had  a  big  folio  volume  of  Penn's  works  in 
our  library  which  had  come  down  to  us  from  my 
great-grandfather  and  contained  many  theological 
papers — "No  Cross,  No  Crown,"  "The  Sandy 
Fountain  Shaken,"  "Innocency  With  Her  Open 
Face,"  and  others.  I  cannot  say  that  I  found  these 
very  attractive  reading,  nor  that  I  could  fully  un- 
derstand the  arguments  about  the  Trinity,  but  I  was 
greatly  interested  in  the  account  of  the  Trial,  where 
Penn  insisted  on  wearing  his  hat  before  the  magis- 
trate and  was  summarily  (with  monstrous  injustice 
as  it  seemed  to  me)  trotted  off  to  prison.  Penn's 
Treaty  with  the  Indians  I  came  to  regard  as  per- 
haps the  central  event  in  all  history,  and  once  when 
I  read  a  poem  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  containing  the 
line: 

"This  day  was  won  by  Washington," 

it  occurred  to  me  that  Penn  had  been  unjustly 
omitted,  and  I  asked  if  it  was  not  "won  by  William 
Penn,  too."  Father,  I  thought,  hardly  felt  how 


DOROTHY  DAY  41 

wrong  the  omission  was  when  he  answered:  "Not 
so  much  by  William  Penn,"  since  for  my  part  I 
couldn't  see  how  William  Penn  could  be  behind  any- 
body in  anything. 

Father  used  to  urge  upon  me  the  importance  of 
following  "Friends'  principles"  and  "testimonies," 
as  he  called  them,  of  adhering  to  "plainness  of 
speech,  behavior  and  apparel" ;  always  to  say 
"thee"  and  not  "you,"  since  the  latter  was  a  word 
introduced  in  mere  compliment,  and  "First  month," 
"Second  month,"  and  not  "January"  or  "Feb- 
ruary" and  "Third  day"  and  "Fourth  day,"  rather 
than  "Tuesday"  or  'Wednesday,"  since  the  latter 
names  were  those  of  heathen  deities.  But  father 
used  to  teach  me  astronomy  as  well  as  morals  and 
religion,  and  when  he  told  me  about  Mercury  and 
Venus  and  Mars  and  Jupiter,  I  asked  him  if  it  was 
not  just  as  wrong  to  call  these  planets  by  the  names 
of  heathen  gods  as  it  was  to  say  Tuesday  and 
Wednesday.  I  think  father  was  a  little  vexed  at  this 
question,  and  although  he  said  it  was  quite  different, 
I  do  not  remember  that  he  told  what  the  difference 
was,  and  when  I  proposed  to  call  them  "First 
planet,"  "Second  planet,"  etc.,  my  suggestion  was 
not  accepted,  so  I  suppose  the  distinction  was  too 
deep  for  a  boy  to  comprehend.  I  think  so  still. 

But  most  of  all,  father  urged  upon  me  the  impor- 
tance of  observing  what  he  called  the  "Fundamental 
principle  of  Quakerism,"  namely,  obedience  to  the 
"light  within,"  and  of  following  all  impressions 


42  DOROTHY  DAY 

of  duty,  which  he  said  were  revelations  of  the  Spirit. 

So  far  as  impressions  of  ordinary  morality  were 
concerned,  I  could  understand  this,  but  the  "light 
within"  sometimes  took  a  wider  range.  He  told 
me  instances  where  Friends  had  been  directed  by  it 
to  do  things  for  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  reason. 
There  were  revelations  to  go  to  a  particular  meet- 
ing and  preach  upon  some  particular  subject  which 
turned  out  to  be  for  the  salvation  of  some  particular 
sinner  in  the  flock.  There  were  revelations  to  open 
the  Bible  and  the  reading  of  the  first  passage  that 
met  the  eye  was  followed  by  important  results. 
There  were  revelations  to  take  particular  lines  of 
travel  followed  by  dreadful  accidents  upon  the  other 
road.  In  fact,  the  whole  world  of  miracle  was  set 
before  me  as  the  result  of  "minding  the  light." 

Now  I  tried  many  of  these  things  myself,  but 
nothing  strange  ever  happened.  The  providence 
which  was  so  constantly  directing  others  seemed  to 
have  little  care  of  me.  If,  "minding  the  light,"  I 
took  the  second  omnibus  rather  than  the  one  just 
ahead  of  it,  no  accident  ever  happened  to  either,  so 
far  as  I  could  learn — and  if  I  reverently  opened  the 
Bible  for  some  special  illumination,  I  most  likely 
came  upon  the  passage,  "And  Obed  begat  Jehu  and 
Jehu  begat  Azariah" — or  perhaps  some  battle  with 
the  Amalekites,  or  some  instruction  about  the  shew 
bread  which  gave  me  little  comfort. 

Possibly  my  faith  was  too  weak,  for  although  I 
assured  myself  when  I  took  the  omnibus  or  opened 


DOROTHY  DAY  43 

the  Bible  that  I  really  believed  in  this  miraculous 
guidance,  yet  after  two  or  three  failures,  I  remem- 
ber thinking  "I  knew  it  would  be  so,"  until  at  last 
I  became  so  skeptical  that  I  would  trust  nothing  out- 
side of  my  own  human,  mortal,  common  sense. 

Then  if  all  the  sermons  I  heard  were  inspired  by 
the  Spirit,  I  used  to  wonder  why  it  was  that  the 
Spirit  didn't  understand  English  grammar  any 
better. 

There  was  a  little  farmer,  one  Israel  Van  Cott, 
from  somewhere  in  Long  Island,  who  used  to  come 
to  meeting  once  in  a  while,  and  he  would  jump  up 
three  or  four  times  at  a  single  sitting,  stringing 
together  each  time  a  number  of  Bible  texts  in  a 
sing-song  voice,  and  I  wondered  why  his  inspiration 
didn't  come  all  at  once ;  why  he  had  to  give  it  to  us 
piecemeal.  But  father  would  say:  "The  sermon 
was  not  for  thee,  but  perhaps  it  fitted  the  condition 
of  some  one  else  who  was  there." 

Then  there  was  Amos  Higgins  with  a  mouth  like 
a  clam,  but  he  didn't  have  the  sense  of  a  clam  in 
keeping  it  shut.  Amos  was  a  carpenter,  and  once 
we  had  him  do  some  work  for  us.  He  was  so  poor 
that  he  asked  us  to  pay  him  in  advance,  and  then  when 
he  had  got  the  money,  he  was  so  lazy  he  never 
finished  the  job.  When  Amos  got  up  in  meeting  and 
began  to  preach  a  sing-song  sermon  through  his 
nose,  I  wanted  to  stick  him  in  the  leg  with  a  big 
pin.  I  thought  it  would  make  the  Spirit  livelier. 


44  DOROTHY  DAY 

Indeed,  I  never  saw  Amos  anywhere  but  I  wanted 
to  poke  a  pin  into  him  and  stir  him  up. 

Then  there  was  David  Jones  who  used  to  preach 
such  long  sermons  that  I  was  glad  he  didn't  always 
speak  at  our  meeting.  He  was  a  good  old  man,  but 
I  always  thought  him  a  great  goose.  For  when  he 
was  seventy  years  old  he  married  a  second  wife 
who  was  younger  than  any  of  his  children — and  I 
remember  how  bitterly  Anna  Maria,  his  daughter, 
used  to  talk  about  his  "infatuation"  and  "the  dread- 
ful influence"  that  woman  had  over  him.  Once 
David  told  us  a  story  of  a  call  which  he  had  just 
made  upon  a  friend.  "After  I  took  my  seat  in 
the  parlor,"  he  said,  "what  should  come  in  but  a 
little  terrier  that  barked  at  me  so  fiercely  I  had 
to  get  up  on  a  table  and  from  that  to  the  mantel- 
piece, where  I  could  stand  out  of  his  reach  and  shake 
my  cane  at  him  until  I  was  relieved."  I  used  to 
wonder  how  much  of  David's  life  was  inspired. 

Another  thing  puzzled  me  still  more.  If  the 
Spirit  was  always  right  how  could  it  lead  Friends  to 
take  opposite  sides  of  the  same  question?  There 
was  John  Borden  and  Naomi  Butterworth,  who 
were  "misled,"  as  father  used  to  say.  But  if  the 
Spirit  ever  misled  anybody,  how  could  you  know 
when  it  was  telling  the  truth?  Once  I  heard  John 
Borden  preach  and  he  said  some  strange  things,  I 
thought,  and  then  Isaac  Clear  got  up  afterwards  and 
quoted  a  text  about  a  blind  man  who,  when  he  got 
his  sight  saw  "men  as  trees  walking,"  and  I  thought 


DOROTHY  DAY  45 

he  meant  that  this  was  the  way  things  seemed  to 
John  Borden,  so  I  wondered  which  of  them  it  was 
that  had  the  inspiration,  or  how  you  could  tell  which 
inspiration  was  right. 

Then  there  was  Abraham  Godlove.  We  children 
used  to  argue  which  was  the  greater  minister, 
Lucretia  Mott  or  Abraham.  Dorcas  Jones  said 
Lucretia  Mott  was  greater,  but  I  didn't  think  so. 
Lucretia  used  to  preach  very  quietly  just  as  if  she 
were  talking  to  somebody,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that 
a  really  great  minister  ought  to  do  more  than  that, 
he  ought  to  talk  loud  and  high  and  sing  a  little. 
Then  Lucretia  Mott  had  always  been  a  very 
good  woman,  but  Abraham  in  his  early  life 
used  to  be  intemperate.  I  have  heard  him  pray 
very  earnestly  and  thank  the  good  Lord  that  he  had 
been  a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning,  and  this 
seemed  to  me  a  great  deal  finer  than  if  he  had  always 
been  good.  The  story  of  the  "ninety  and  nine"  had 
made  a  deep  impression  upon  my  heart.  Abraham 
Godlove  used  to  come  to  Yearly  Meeting  quite 
often.  I  remember  how  impressive  he  looked  with 
his  white  hair,  as  he  stood  at  the  head  of  the  gallery, 
and  in  impassioned  words  besought  us  all  to  follow 
the  same  good  Master  who  had  been  so  kind  to  him. 
And  when  at  the  end  of  the  sermon  he  told  us  that 
his  life  was  drawing  to  its  close  and  he  might  never 
meet  us  again,  and  sat  down  bidding  us  an  affec- 
tionate farewell,  we  all  cried,  for  we  were  sure  that 
this  was  his  last  sermon  to  us  and  that  he  would  die 


46  DOROTHY  DAY 

very  soon.  But  next  year  he  came  back  and  once 
more  bade  us  the  same  affectionate  farewell,  and 
this  happened  even  a  third  time.  And  then  I  didn't 
cry  a  bit,  for  I  didn't  believe  a  word  of  it.  It 
seemed  to  me  he  was  likely  to  live  forever. 

At  Yearly  Meeting  our  house  was  full  of  Friends 
from  the  country.  There  were  a  few  of  these  who 
used  to  smoke,  not  many,  for  Friends  had  "a 
testimony"  against  the  unnecessary  use  of  tobacco. 
Whenever  any  one  smoked  at  our  house  he  had  to 
go  out  on  the  back  porch  or  into  the  back  yard,  and 
one  dear  old  friend,  Solomon  Pennington,  would 
be  sent  out  there  alone  after  dinner,  but  the  little 
boy  of  the  house  used  to  follow  him  rather  than  stay 
in  the  parlor  with  the  rest.  We  had  long  talks 
together  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  man  might  be  a 
nice  man  even  if  he  smoked. 

There  was  a  woman  Friend  who  talked  to  me  very 
seriously  on  the  subject  and  told  me  of  a  young  man 
of  her  acquaintance  who  used  to  chew  tobacco.  She 
asked  him  once  how  much  he  used  and  how  much  it 
cost  him  every  week,  and  then  she  added  it  all  up 
and  multiplied  and  calculated  and  said  to  him :  "By 
the  time  thee  is  fifty  years  of  age  thee  will  have  spit 
away  a  whole  farm!" 

I  had  peculiar  ideas  of  the  religion  of  those 
strange  people  who  were  "outside  of  our  Society." 
One  summer  when  we  spent  the  Fourth  of  July  at 
the  Heath  House  on  Schooley's  Mountain  (I  remem- 
ber it  was  the  Fourth,  for  a  fire  cracker,  a  "sizzler," 


DOROTHY  DAY  47 

somehow  got  underneath  the  collar  of  my  shirt  and 
"sizzled"  there  with  great  deliberation,  making  a 
long  streak  of  raw  flesh  around  my  neck)  I  met  a 
little  girl  with  dark-brown  eyes,  and  beautiful  wavy 
hair,  who  told  me  in  a  soft  voice  that  she  was  a 
Baptist.  The  "p"  and  "t"  in  that  word  as  uttered 
by  her  lips  fitted  together  so  melodiously  that  I  felt 
sure  that  the  Baptist  must  be  a  very  aristocratic  sort 
of  religion. 

One  Christmas  day  father  took  me  to  hear 
"Pontifical  High  Mass"  at  St.  Patrick's  church  in 
Prince  Street,  which  was  then  the  seat  of  the  Arch- 
bishop. I  had  never  before  seen  anything  like  the 
priests  in  their  canonicals,  except  in  Fox's  "Book  of 
Martyrs,"  where  men  in  just  such  caps  and  vest- 
ments presided  over  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition, 
and  all  through  the  service  I  half  expected  to  see 
some  victim  brought  out  and  stretched  upon  the  rack 
or  roasted  so  as  to  make  him  confess. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    REST   OF   THE    HOUSEHOLD 

GRANDFATHER  THRIVEWELL  was  a  tall,  slender, 
dignified  and  reserved  old  man,  with  strong,  sharp 
features  and  deep  set  eyes.  He  had  been  a  mer- 
chant, had  amassed  considerable  property,  and 
owned  a  number  of  houses  and  shops  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  city,  which  he  had  bought  near  the  begin- 
ning of  the  century. 

He  was  a  very  precise  and  careful  man.  I  remem- 
ber his  exquisite  handwriting — as  fine  as  steel 
engraving — and  the  very  particular  way  in  which 
the  leases  to  the  tenants  had  to  be  drawn  up,  after 
models  he  had  prepared.  I  remember  the  tenants 
themselves  who  used  to  come  up  to  sign  them — and 
after  I  had  learned  to  write  I  used  to  sign  my  name 
too — as  a  witness — and  felt  the  importance  of  it, 
watching  every  stroke  of  the  pen  while  the  others 
wrote  so  that  I  could  be  sure  I  had  seen  all. 

My  grandfather  was  not  present  on  these  occa- 
sions. He  always  stayed  in  his  own  room  just  above 
the  back  parlor,  where  every  morning  Anne  Welsh, 
the  maid,  used  to  bring  him  a  pile  of  buckwheat 
cakes  for  breakfast. 

I  had  great  awe  of  grandfather,  but  once  the 
spirit  of  mischief  was  too  strong  for  me.  I  entered 


DOROTHY  DAY  49 

the  room  softly  and  seeing  him  standing  with  his 
back  toward  me,  arrayed  in  his  dressing  gown  and 
having  upon  his  head  a  nightcap  that  ran  up  into  a 
point,  with  a  small  tassel  at  the  end,  I  thought  I 
would  try  to  scare  him,  and  so,  stealing  behind  him 
unobserved,  and  reaching  up  as  close  to  his  ear  as 
I  could  get,  I  shouted  at  the  top  of  my  voice, 
"Boo!"  But  when  he  turned  upon  me,  the  horrible 
expression  in  his  shrunken  eyes  and  open  mouth 
frightened  me  a  great  deal  more  than  the  noise  had 
frightened  him.  I  flew  headlong  out  of  the  room 
and  in  Katy's  arms  I  sorrowed  over  my  transgres- 
sion. For  two  or  three  days  afterwards  I  felt  like 
a  very  wicked  boy,  but  at  the  end  of  that  time 
grandfather  sent  me  a  note,  saying:  "I  forgive 
little  Robert  for  scaring  me,"  whereupon  I  ventured 
back  into  his  room  and  there  was  full  reconciliation 
and  happiness.  But  the  pointed  nightcap  with  the 
tassel,  which  had  been  so  closely  associated  with  that 
dreadful  look,  became  in  my  eyes  a  thing  of  grue- 
some and  unearthly  character. 

When  grandfather  died,  there  is  one  fact  only  in 
connection  with  that  event  which  stands  out  clearly 
in  my  memory.  Just  after  we  had  entered  the  car- 
riage to  go  to  the  cemetery,  our  coachman  called  out 
to  the  undertaker  and  to  the  driver  of  the  hearse  in 
front:  "I  hope  yez  won't  walk  all  the  way,"  and 
I  said  to  myself,  "I  hope  not,  too." 

There  is  another  form  that  comes  before  me — a 
small,  slender,  fragile  figure  and  a  quiet,  gentle, 


5o  DOROTHY  DAY 

beautiful  face,  with  light  blue  eyes.  That  face  is 
Auntie's 

Her  frail  body,  which  looked  as  though  a  stiff 
breeze  would  blow  it  away,  was,  however,  lithe  and 
active.  She  could  walk  for  miles  at  a  swift  pace  with- 
out fatigue,  and  I  have  seen  her  when  over  eighty 
years  of  age  swing  herself  with  the  agility  of  a  boy 
up  to  the  platform  of  a  passing  street  car  without 
waiting  for  it  to  stop.  She  ate  very  sparingly, 
hardly  enough  for  a  cat,  and  had  little  care  what 
kind  of  food  it  was,  so  long  as  it  was  not  produced 
by  slave  labor. 

Indeed,  her  sense  of  smell  as  well  as  of  taste  was 
decidedly  defective.  This  relieved  her  from  many 
annoyances  and  was  not  without  its  advantages  in 
later  years  to  her  dear  nephew  when  the  boy  began 
to  smoke,  for,  although  his  room  at  that  time  was  next 
to  hers,  she  passed  years  of  blissful  unconsciousness 
that  he  was  acquiring  such  a  bad  habit.  How  much 
more  lovable  are  those  sweet  characters  who  can- 
not perceive  what  is  going  on  before  their  eyes, 
than  the  knowing  ones  with  sharp  olfactories  who 
are  so  keenly  alive  to  the  sins  of  those  around  them ! 

Auntie  had  once  been  married,  but  after  a  brief 
period  her  husband,  whom  she  loved  tenderly,  had 
died  and  she  had  come  back  to  her  father's.  She 
cherished  the  memory  of  their  few  happy  days  to- 
gether as  the  precious  recollection  of  her  life.  I 
know  of  a  suitor  afterwards  who  would  have  been 
thought  by  many  most  desirable,  but  she  wrote  a 


DOROTHY  DAY  51 

letter  sending  him  about  his  business,  with  the  near- 
est approach  to  indignation  that  I  ever  saw  upon  her 
face.  For  during  the  many  years  we  were  together  I 
never  knew  her  to  be  angry  nor  heard  her  speak 
unkindly  of  any  one. 

Her  favorite  exclamation  was  "Patience  Oh!" 
Those  who  do  not  swear  must  have  some  equivalent. 

Now  auntie,  I  think,  loved  me  almost  as  dearly 
as  my  parents  did,  for  I  had  been  named  after  her  be- 
loved husband.  She  was  not  allowed  to  have  much  say 
in  the  matter  of  my  bringing  up,  but  she  took  great 
interest  in  my  literary  efforts,  especially  at  the  time 
when  I  was  so  small  that  I  had  not  yet  learned  to 
write.  I  could  print  a  little  in  great  scrawling  capi- 
tal letters  and  was  engaged  in  the  composition  of  a 
"geography,"  but  the  work  of  printing  went  so 
slowly  that  Auntie  undertook  to  write  the  book  from 
my  dictation.  This  was  very  kind,  but  unfortun- 
ately, after  I  had  grown  up  and  it  was  all  forgotten, 
she  also  undertook  to  have  several  hundred  copies 
published  and  circulated  among  my  friends! 

As  a  specimen  of  what  the  book  contained,  let  us 
take  the  following:  I  had  given  a  definition  of  a 
cataract,  much  the  same  as  that  which  I  had  found 
in  my  geographies — then  to  make  it  all  very  vivid 
and  real,  I  had  illustrated  my  definition  with  a  pic- 
ture; such  a  picture  as  a  boy  six  or  seven  years  old 
might  be  expected  to  draw,  and  I  had  further  illus^ 
trated  the  picture  by  the  following  verse: 


52  DOROTHY  DAY 

"The  cataract  falls  and  makes  its  roar. 
It  never  stops  but  still  does  pour. 
It  roars  and  roars  for  hours  and  hours. 
Yet  it  keeps  on,  its  water  pours." 

It  may  be  imagined  with  what  pleasure  I  received, 
thirty  years  afterwards,  the  congratulations  of  my 
friends  upon  this  masterpiece! 

The  one  remaining  member  of  the  family  was 
Uncle  Ephraim.  Uncle  Ephraim  was  an  old 
bachelor,  a  small,  spare  man,  with  a  face  already 
wrinkled  by  age.  Old  bachelors,  I  believe,  are  often 
accounted  "peculiar,"  and  I  recollect  that  Uncle 
Ephraim  always  seemed  to  me  a  very  "funny 
man."  He  was  like  grandfather  in  this  that  he 
would  never  see  any  visitors,  and  that  he  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  his  own  room.  He  took 
no  part  in  business  and  little  in  conversation,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  he  did  nothing  but  read.  Many  were 
the  books  he  used  to  buy,  especially  books  of  travel. 

Auntie  was  the  one  member  of  the  family  who 
was  closest  to  him.  She  looked  very  carefully  after 
his  comfort  and  watched  over  him  with  affectionate 
guardianship.  When  she  afterwards  bought  a  cot- 
tage by  the  seaside,  where  we  spent  our  summers  for 
many  years,  the  best  room  down  stairs,  right  in  the 
middle  of  the  house,  was  set  apart  for  Uncle 
Ephraim,  and  we  had  to  go  around  it  out  of  doors 
in  passing  from  the  parlor  to  the  dining  room. 
While  we  lived  there,  he  and  I  used  to  take  long 
walks  through  the  country  together,  and  he  had  a 


DOROTHY  DAY  53 

very  perverse  habit  of  wanting  to  go  one  way  when 
I  wanted  to  go  another.  Then  we  would  separate, 
but  after  crossing  two  or  three  fields  a  little  way 
apart,  we  always  came  together  at  last  and  went 
home  in  company. 

Uncle  Ephraim,  too,  was  very  fond  of  me.  When 
on  Christmas  morning  I  rummaged  in  my  stocking 
or  ran  down  to  the  basement  to  see  what  presents  I 
had  (for  the  fiction  of  Santa  Claus,  like  all  other 
fictions,  was  banished  from  our  sober  household), 
it  was  always  Uncle  Ephraim's  gift  that  shone  most 
resplendent  in  the  collection.  It  was  he  who  had 
given  me  the  two  great  books  on  Natural  History, 
one  of  which  contained  the  picture  of  the  hippo- 
potamus. But  one  Christmas  I  had  a  dreadful  expe- 
rience I  Looking  on  the  table  I  spied,  among  other 
things,  a  square  box  with  a  hook  in  front  as  if  to 
keep  down  the  top.  "See,  I've  brought  him  a  whole 
box  of  things  this  time."  (Uncle  Ephraim  always 
spoke  to  me  as  well  as  of  me  in  the  third  person.  If 
the  third  person  was  used  without  any  further 
explanation,  that  always  meant  the  small  boy  of 
the  household.)  So  I  opened  the  box  and  up  sprang 
a  terrible  ferocious  figure  with  thick  beard  and  mon- 
strous mustache,  and  I  ran  back  to  the  kitchen  and 
sought  safety  in  Katy's  arms. 

But  like  that  other  "monster  of  such  frightful 
mien"  this  jack-in-the-box  at  last  became  very  preci- 
ous to  me,  for  it  was  the  means  of  my  awakening 


54  DOROTHY  DAY 

in  my  small  companions  the  same  terrors  that  it  had 
first  aroused  in  me. 

One  day  little  Mary  Fishtr  came  to  play  with  me 
and  having  been  introduced  to  Black-beard  in  the 
same  way  in  which  I  had  myself  made  that  gentle- 
man's acquaintance,  she  became  so  alarmed  that  she 
could  not  endure  the  picture  of  a  man  anywhere,  and 
she  even  covered  up  with  her  mashed  potatoes  the 
figures  of  the  little  brown  men  on  her  dinner  plate, 
so  that  they  could  not  look  at  her. 

The  other  inmates  of  our  household  were  the 
nurse  and  the  chambermaid,  Anne  Lynch  and  Anne 
Welsh  (who  sometimes  seemed  to  me  like  East  and 
West  upon  the  map),  and  Katy,  the  cook,  who  stood 
for  the  broiling  South.  Her  last  name  was  Coftey. 
She  was  a  faithful  soul  and  lived  with  us  many,  many 
years.  She  spoke  a  wild  Irish  brogue  that  was  quite 
incomprehensible  until  you  became  used  to  it.  She 
was  a  devout  Catholic  and  told  me  that  the  Pope 
was  the  mightiest  of  all  kings  and  had  the  largest 
army  in  the  world.  Her  husband,  before  she  came 
from  Ireland,  had  been  transported  to  Australia 
for  some  offense  of  which  he  was  entirely  innocent, 
but  he  had  been  led  into  it  by  wicked  men! 

Katy  could  not  read  or  write  a  word,  she  was 
homelier  than  a  stone  fence  and  yet  I  think  that  if 
our  places  in  the  great  hereafter  are  to  be  graded 
according  to  the  faithful  performance  of  duty,  few 
of  us  will  stand  so  near  the  throne.  She  served  us 
with  industry,  affection,  cheerfulness  and  absolute 


DOROTHY  DAY  55 

honesty.  Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  shortcom- 
ings of  domestic  servants,  it  has  always  seemed  to 
me  that  their  integrity  is  remarkable.  Heaven 
knows  they  have  temptations  enough!  Money, 
precious  jewels  and  other  valuable  property  arc 
spread  constantly  before  their  eyes  with  unlimited 
facilities  for  theft,  and  yet  so  little  is  ever  missing! 

When  we  consider  the  dishonesty  in  trade,  in 
politics,  in  medicine,  in  law,  in  religion  itself,  I 
doubt  whether  the  higher  grades  of  social  life  will 
average  half  so  well. 

Anne  Lynch  was  accurately  described  in  a  letter 
written  long  afterwards  by  one  of  her  subsequent 
employers  in  answer  to  an  inquiry  as  to  her  char- 
acter and  capabilities.  "She  is  conceited,  garrulous, 
impertinent,  and  has  the  voice  of  a  hyena.  If  you 
don't  mind  these  things  she  is  in  every  other  respect 
absolutely  perfect." 

Anne  Welsh  I  remember  with  both  elbows  on  the 
table  holding  in  her  hands  close  to  her  eyes  the  tea 
cup  she  had  just  drained,  and  solemnly  seeking  to 
unravel  her  future  destiny  from  the  grounds  at  the 
bottom,  an  art  into  which  I  was  duly  initiated  and 
which  I  have  always  considered  quite  as  accurate  a 
mode  of  rellincr  fortunes  as  palmistry  or  the  con- 
templation of  the  stars. 


CHAPTER  V 

.   OUR  FRIENDS  AND  NEIGHBORS 

NEXT  door  to  us,  in  the  house  whose  "stoop"  ad- 
joined our  own,  lived  Mark  Underwood,  with  his 
wife  Eliza  (who  once  had  "the  influenza,"  a  strange 
disease  somewhat  different  from  the  croup)  and 
their  son,  George,  a  boy  a  few  years  older  than  my- 
self, who  was  for  a  long  time  my  model,  mentor 
and  guide,  such  a  one  as  every  boy  must  have — 
though  mother  used  to  say  that  he  imposed  upon 
me.  Mark  Underwood  was  a  "horticulturist"  and 
had  a  country  place.  In  his  back  yard,  right  against 
our  fence,  grew  a  big  peach  tree,  named  by  the 
Horticultural  Society  "The  Underwood  Seedling," 
and  I  often  used  to  wonder  whether  the  peaches 
that  hung  over  on  our  side  did  not  belong  to  us. 

Just  across  the  way  lived  Mrs.  Hood,  a  widow. 
Mrs.  Hood  was  very  rich.  She  owned  a  large  meat 
packing  establishment  in  Division  Street.  Some 
said  she  was  worth  half  a  miliion!  Yet  she  con- 
tinued to  keep  a  stall  down  in  Fulton  Market, 
whither  she  went  every  morning.  Her  portly  person 
was  covered  with  a  plain  shawl,  an  old  fashioned  bon- 
net was  on  her  head  and  a  basket  always  on  her 
arm,  as  she  waddled  up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell 
of  her  front  door  on  her  return.  Why  on  earth 


DOROTHY  DAY  57 

did  Mrs.  Hood  keep  that  stall,  spending  her  time 
among  the  fishwomen,  when  she  had  more  than 
money  enough  to  keep  her  in  comfort  all  her  days? 
That  was  the  great  riddle  of  the  neighborhood. 

On  the  west  side  of  Mrs.  Hood's  house  lived  Mr. 
Higgins  and  his  wife.  Mr.  Higgins  sometimes  used 
to  come  staggering  home,  and  he  was  pointed  out 
to  me  when  in  this  state  as  a  dreadful  warning. 
After  a  while  Mrs.  Higgins  died  and  we  were  all 
shocked  to  see  her  husband  tipsy  the  day  after  she 
passed  away.  Ah,  what  a  wretch  he  was!  No 
doubt  he  had  brought  her  to  her  death-bed!  But 
Auntie  said  in  a  quiet,  sympathetic  voice:  "Poor 
man!  He  is  trying  to  drown  his  sorrow!"  And 
she  added  she  did  not  blame  those  who  drank  nearly 
so  much  as  those  who  sold  them  the  liquor. 

It  was  mostly  in  front  of  Mr.  Higgins'  house 
that  the  organ  man  used  to  play.  There  were  many 
organ  grinders  who  frequented  the  streets,  but  one 
was  persistent  and  we  knew  his  tunes  only  too 
well.  Whether  Higgins  encouraged  him  to  come 
for  the  purpose  of  drowning  his  sorrow  or  exalting 
his  joy,  I  know  not,  but  it  is  certain  that  the  tunes 
did  neither,  so  far  as  the  neighbors  were  concerned. 
Once  when  I  was  ill,  the  diabolical  noises  produced 
by  that  organ  grinder  set  me  wild  and  father  was 
constrained  to  purchase  his  silence  at  a  higher  price 
that  his  music  had  ever  brought. 

But  to  me  the  most  important  house  in  that  neigh- 
borhood was  the  one  next  to  ours  on  the  other 


5  8  DOROTHY  DAY 

side  from  the  Underwood's,  for  in  that  dwelt  the 
Carlisles,  and  there  lived  Maggie.  Maggie  was  a 
black-eyed  little  witch.  I  do  not  remember  that  I 
ever  visited  her  or  that  she  ever  came  to  see  me. 
Our  acquaintance  was  altogether  across  a  high  board 
fence,  more  impenetrable  than  the  wall  that  parted 
Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  for  in  it  was  no  chink  nor 
knot-hole.  Maggie  would  stand  on  her  back  porch 
and  I  would  talk  to  her  from  the  yard.  Or  sometimes 
I  would  climb  the  grape  arbor  and  look  down  on 
her  over  the  fence  and  we  would  have  long  conver- 
sations. It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that 
she  told  me  she  had  been  to  the  circus.  I  had  never 
seen  anything  more  than  a  menagerie,  and  the 
glories  of  a  circus  as  she  described  them  dazzled 
my  imagination.  Maggie  and  I  often  had  quarrels 
with  vows  that  we  would  never  speak  again,  but 
these  were  followed  by  sweet  reconciliations  or  per- 
haps by  my  loud  calls  over  the  fence,  in  total  for- 
getfulness  that  there  had  been  a  feud  the  day  be- 
fore. I  often  fancied  myself  performing  some  act 
of  heroism  for  Maggie,  rescuing  her  from  a  burn- 
ing building  or  a  sinking  ship.  I  had  seen  in  Green- 
wood Cemetery  the  statue  of  a  brave  fireman  who 
had  perished  while  saving  an  infant  from  the  flames, 
and  I  resolved  to  imitate  him.  In  fancy,  through 
the  dark  night,  I  could  see  the  great  flames  leaping 
from  the  windows  of  Maggie's  house;  I  could  see 
the  red-shirted  firemen  working  vainly  at  the  engines 
to  extinguish  the  conflagration;  I  could  see  the  multi- 


DOROTHY  DAY  59 

tudc  looking  up  in  breathless  awe.  Then  a  cry 
announced  that  Maggie  (who  was  sleeping  in  the 
front  room  on  the  third  floor)  had  been  forgotten. 
Yet  no  one  dared  to  stir  to  rescue  her.  Suddenly  1 
leaped  forth  from  the  throng,  quickly  mounted  the 
ladder  which  was  placed  against  the  window  of  her 
room,  entered  amid  smoke  and  flames,  seized  her 
and  carried  her  down  in  my  arms,  amid  the  plaudits 
of  the  multitude.  I  did  not,  however,  perish  in  the 
falling  building.  I  preferred  to  live  a  little  longer 
and  enjoy  the  glory  of  my  triumph,  as  well  as 
Maggie's  gratitude. 

But  fate  was  cruel  and  gave  me  no  chance  to 
rescue  her,  so  I  was  a  hero  only  in  imagination. 
How  many  such  heroes  there  are !  Did  you  ever 
read  Sienkiewicz's  novel,  "With  Fire  and  Sword"? 
If  so,  you  will  remember  Pan  Longin  Podbipienta, 
one  of  whose  ancestors  had  cut  off  three  Turks' 
heads  at  a  stroke,  and  who  had  made  a  vow  never  to 
look  upon  woman  with  the  eyes  of  love  till  he  had 
done  the  like.  Now  Pan  Longin  was  a  sturdy  fel- 
low and  very  brave.  He  lacked  nothing  for  the 
performance  of  his  vow  except  the  concurrence  of 
three  Turks' heads  in  the  precise  position  where  they 
could  all  be  stricken  off  at  a  single  blow.  One  Turk's 
head  was  an  easy  matter  and  so  would  three  have 
been  if  he  could  only  find  them  in  one  place.  That 
is  the  way  it  is  all  through  our  lives.  There  is 
much  potential  heroism  and  greatness  in  our  makeup, 
but  the  three  Turks'  heads  come  not  often  together. 


6o  DOROTHY  DAY 

So  Maggie  was  never  rescued.  Perhaps  that  was 
just  as  well,  for  thus  she  avoided  all  anxiety,  and 
the  house  as  well  as  the  furniture  were  saved  by  the 
failure  of  my  opportunity! 

There  was  another  neighbor  who  played  an  im- 
portant part  in  my  life,  and  that  was  Auntie  Dane, 
a  fat  old  woman,  who  kept  a  toy  and  candy  shop 
around  the  corner.  She  sold  ice-cream,  wholesale 
and  retail — that  is,  a  big  plate  for  grown-up  people, 
which  cost  a  dime — or,  on  the  other  hand,  an  egg 
cup,  scant  measure  for  a  cent,  or  heaping  full  for 
two  cents.  Often  I  would  regale  myself  with  a  two- 
cent  portion  and  then  go  home  and  complete  my 
joy  in  the  grape  arbor  with  great  bunches  of 
Isabellas  I 

We  used  to  have  some  friends  from  the  country 
who  would  come  to  visit  us  in  the  winter  time,  and 
then  in  summer  we  would  visit  them.  Among  others 
were  Luke  and  Evalina  Stone  from  Westfield.  Luke 
was  a  red-faced,  burly  man,  and  he  was  very  strong. 
I  know  this  because  mother  once  told  me  that  he 
was  stronger  even  than  father,  and  I  had  found 
out  from  romping  with  father  on  the  floor,  how 
desperately  strong  he  was.  I  knew  well  the  story 
of  Samson  in  the  Bible,  and  one  day  when  one  of 
my  little  friends  came  to  see  me  I  proposed  a  new 
game.  He  was  to  be  Samson,  the  strongest  man 
in  the  world  (in  ancient  times)  and  I  was  to  be 
Luke  Stone,  the  strongest  man  in  Westfield  (at  a 
later  and  more  advanced  period) ,  and  we  were  thus 


DOROTHY  DAY  61 

to  contend  for  the  mastery.  So  the  past  and  the 
present  wrestled  together  and  pounded  each  other 
over  the  head  for  a  long  while,  but  I  cannot  remem- 
ber whether  the  outcome  showed  the  progress  or 
degeneration  of  mankind. 

Among  the  most  frequent  visitors  at  our  house 
was  Henrietta  Simpson.  Henrietta  weighed  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  and  she  was,  as 
mother  said,  "a  great  talker."  Her  thoughts 
poured  forth  in  a  smooth,  solid  stream  without 
pause  or  interruption  for  hours.  Her  husband, 
Simon  Simpson,  was  very  hard  of  hearing,  but  I 
used  to  wonder  whether  this  was  really  an  affliction. 
He  always  carried  an  ear-trumpet,  and  when  Hen- 
rietta would  signal  to  him  that  she  wanted  to  say 
something,  he  would  put  it  to  his  ear  and  listen 
patiently  for  awhile,  but  when  at  last  he  became 
too  tired,  he  would  take  it  out  and  lay  it  gently  on 
his  lap.  He  thus  seemed  to  be  more  the  master  of 
his  fate  than  if  he  could  have  heard  without  it. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MY  OCCUPATIONS 

I  RECALL  many  of  the  occupations  in  which  I 
passed  the  long  and  often  solitary  hours  of  my  child- 
hood. I  whittled  small  boats  of  various  designs, 
boats  with  flat  bottoms  and  boats  with  deep  keels, 
long,  narrow  boats  and  chubby  flat  fellows,  sloops, 
schooners,  brigs,  ships  and  catamarans.  I  had  great 
plans  for  inventions.  I  made  kites  of  strange  forms 
and  many  tails  and  peculiar  modes  of  operation, 
which  generally  wouldn't  rise,  and  I  would  ruminate 
schemes  for  flying  machines  and  for  perpetual  mo- 
tion which  I  would  never  believe  to  be  quite  impos- 
sible, even  though  the  books  did  say  it  was.  Mother 
used  to  encourage  this  spirit  of  invention.  One  day 
she  took  me  to  Fowler,  the  phrenologist,  who 
examined  my  head  and  told  me  that  I  would  take 
out  patents  before  I  was  twenty-one.  The  bump 
of  "constructiveness"  was  marked  seven,  or  "very 
large"  on  the  chart,  which  meant  that  I  would  "show 
extraordinary  mechanical  ingenuity  and  a  perfect 
passion  for  making  everything."  But  alas!  my 
energies  were  turned  into  other  channels,  the  promise 
of  youth  was  blighted  and  now  I  cannot  wrap  a 
package  or  drive  a  nail. 

But  another  quality,   "veneration"   or  religious 


DOROTHY  DAY  63 

feeling,  was  quite  small.  Fowler  marked  it  only 
three,  and  when  I  used  to  feel  for  the  "bump" 
with  my  hands,  I  thought  it  was  rather  a  depression. 
Perhaps  this  accounted  for  my  doubts  concerning 
"inspiration"  and  my  failure  to  see  those  special 
acts  of  Providence  which  intervened  so  marvelously 
in  the  affairs  of  others.  I  was  much  concerned  at 
this  defect  in  my  make-up,  especially  since  Fowler's 
book  said  that  "veneration"  was  one  of  the  qualities 
which  could  not  be  cultivated  too  much  and  gave 
sundry  sage  intsructions  for  its  development. 

There  is  something  very  satisfactory  in  having  a 
man's  brain  mapped  out  and  his  character  described 
with  geographical  precision,  as  if  his  head  were  like 
the  greater  globe  and  his  qualities  like  the  conti- 
nents and  countries  upon  its  surface;  hence  phren- 
ology for  a  long  time  won  more  favor  than  it  ever 
deserved.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  an  accurate  "topo- 
graphical survey"  of  the  brain  has  not  yet  been 
made,  that  Fowler's  charts  were  hardly  better  than 
the  old  maps  of  Ptolemy  or  Strabo,  and  not  relia- 
ble for  purposes  of  biographical  navigation. 

My  life  in  the  city,  though  it  filled  eleven  out  of 
the  twelve  months  in  the  year,  contained  hardly  half 
of  the  raptures  and  heart-throbs  that  made  up  my 
real  existence.  The  month  of  August,  father's  vaca- 
tion, was  always  spent  in  the  country,  at  Uncle 
Samuel's  farm.  Here  there  were  sources  of  infinite 
amusement  for  the  city  boy.  What  a  joy  to  milk  the 
cows  or  to  go  forth  into  the  farmyard  with  an  ear 


64  DOROTHY  DAY 

of  corn  and  scattering  the  grains  upon  the  ground 
to  watch  the  chickens  rush  headlong  from  all  direc- 
tions to  be  first  at  the  feast!  What  grandeur  to 
walk  along  the  pike  with  "Tag,"  the  big  Newfound- 
land, as  an  advance  guard,  wagging  his  bushy  tail 
in  measured  cadences !  How  springy  was  the  hay 
in  the  great  mow  as  I  jumped  up  and  down  and  then 
flung  myself  upon  it  with  no  fear  of  falling.  And  then 
my  play-house  under  the  great  chestnut  tree !  Many 
would  never  call  this  a  house  at  all,  for  it  had  neither 
walls  nor  roof.  It  was  nothing  but  a  "ground  plan," 
as  an  architect  would  say;  there  were  little  rows  of 
stones  to  show  which  was  the  hall  and  the  parlor 
and  the  dining-room  and  kitchen,  and  perhaps  one 
or  two  bedrooms  on  the  first  floor.  The  walls  and 
ceiling  and  furniture  and  windows  were  all  left  to 
imagination,  but  poor  indeed  must  be  fancy  of  a  boy 
if  he  could  not  see  just  the  kind  of  a  house  he  liked 
in  those  little  rows  of  stones.  Best  of  all,  it  could 
be  torn  down  and  built  in  a  few  minutes,  according 
to  his  taste,  and  there  are  few  palaces  even  (unless 
it  be  Aladdin's)  that  have  any  such  advantage  as  that. 

Uncle  Samuel's  house  was  an  old-fashioned  one  of 
rough  stone,  "splatterdashed"  with  fine  pebbles  on 
the  outside.  It  was  set  back  a  little  from  the  pike 
and  faced  sideways,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  for  the 
front  was  toward  the  drive,  the  gable  at  the  end 
being  next  to  the  road. 

It  was  a  long,  narrow  house  with  a  wide  "piazza" 
running  the  full  length  in  front  (I  well  knew  the 


DOROTHY  DAY  65 

difference  between  a  "piazza"  and  a  "porch,"  which 
was  merely  a  short  square  thing  just  in  front  of  the 
front  door,  such  as  they  had  at  Uncle  Gamaliel's 
and  not  long  and  broad  like  a  "piazza").  There 
were  three  front  doors  opening  upon  this  "piazza." 
The  one  farthest  away  from  the  pike  led  to  the 
kitchen,  where  Grandmother  Dillingham  used 
secretly  to  give  me  cakes  and  jelly  "between  meals." 
The  door  nearest  the  pike  led  to  the  parlor,  a  dark 
silent  room  rarely  opened  except  upon  great  occa- 
sions, when  there  was  company.  In  this  room  was 
a  picture  of  "The  Peaceable  Kingdom,"  painted 
by  Friend  Bartholomew  East,  which  was  a  great 
wonder  to  me.  Not  only  the  lion  and  the  lamb, 
but  a  whole  Noah's  Ark  collection  of  animals  were 
living  together  in  great  contentment  with  a  little 
child  in  the  midst  of  them.  The  perspective  was 
peculiar  and  there  were  some  animals  I  did  not 
recognize,  but  what  of  that?  There  might  well  be 
such  animals  in  Paradise!  The  middle  door  on 
the  "piazza"  led  to  the  sitting-room,  where  there 
was  a  big  clock  on  a  shelf  with  a  round,  merry  face 
to  welcome  you  as  you  entered  and  a  loud,  com- 
fortable "tick"  to  make  you  feel  at  home.  From 
the  sitting-room  an  inclosed  stairway  led  upstairs, 
and  in  a  closet  under  the  steps  was  a  collection  of 
grandfather's  canes.  He  had  many  kinds — canes 
light  and  dark,  canes  smooth  and  gnarled,  canes 
with  round,  curling  tops,  and  canes  with  ivory 
handles,  and  every  one  had  its  history. 


CHAPTER  VII 

GRANDFATHER  DILLINGHAM  AND  UNCLE  BENJAMIN 

BUT  from  grandfather's  canes  I  must  pass  on  to 
Grandfather  Dillingham  himself.  He  was  a  hale 
old  man  of  more  than  seventy  years  with  an  ample 
"bay-window"  under  his  long  drab  waistcoat,  for 
he  loved  the  good  thing  of  earth,  and  the  careful 
housewives  who  entertained  him  when  he  "traveled 
in  the  work  of  the  ministry"  would  always  put  the 
best  they  had  on  the  table  when  "Joseph  Dilling- 
ham" was  there  to  dine  or  sup.  He  had  a  round 
head  and  a  moon-like  face,  always  clean  shaven, 
and  he  could  shave  in  less  time  than  anyone  else  in 
the  world.  Once  another  Friend  bantered  him  into 
a  race.  The  razors  were  stropped,  the  lather  was 
put  on,  the  word  of  command  was  given:  "Shave!" 
and  at  it  they  went.  Grandfather  soon  distanced 
his  competitor,  and  in  about  half  a  minute  the  vic- 
tory was  won! 

Grandfather  had  formerly  managed  the  farm 
upon  which  the  homestead  stood,  but  he  had  now 
given  it  to  Uncle  Samuel  in  consideration  of  a  small 
annuity,  and  he  devoted  his  remaining  years  to  his 
work  as  a  minister  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  The 
Quakers,  as  is  well  known,  had  a  "testimony  against 
a  hireling  ministry,"  a  testimony  which  owed  its 


DOROTHY  DAY  67 

origin  to  the  corruption  of  the  Established  Church 
at  the  time  of  the  foundation  of  Quakerism.  The 
Gospel,  they  held,  should  be  freely  given  to  all 
"without  money  and  without  price,"  so  their  min- 
isters were  not  paid,  nor  even  reimbursed  for  their 
expenses  in  traveling  to  the  meetings  which  they 
"had  a  concern"  to  visit.  It  is  said  that  Elias 
Hicks  used  to  sell  a  small  slice  of  his  farm  when  he 
wanted  to  make  an  extended  tour.  But  Grand- 
father's needs  were  not  great  and  his  annuity  enabled 
him  to  visit  Friends  in  various  parts  of  the  country 
and  give  them  such  messages  as  he  believed  had 
been  intrusted  to  him  by  his  Divine  Master.  I 
often  heard  him  preach  at  the  old  meeting  house 
in  the  neighborhood.  He  was  especially  fond  of 
the  writings  of  the  Apostle  Paul  and  would  fre- 
quently take  his  texts  from  the  Epistles.  He  began 
his  sermons  in  a  quiet,  conversational  tone,  but  as 
he  warmed  up  with  his  subject,  he  would  fall  into 
that  half  musical  intonation  which  used  to  be  com- 
mon among  the  preachers  of  the  society — an  intona- 
tion not  unlike  the  chant  of  the  priests  in  the 
Catholic  Church.  When  he  had  finished  one  part 
of  his  discourse,  he  would  begin  again,  slowly  and 
quietly  as  before,  and  again  fall  into  a  sing-song 
as  he  progressed.  Once,  after  grandfather  had 
got  into  the  full  swing  of  his  exhortation,  a  little 
boy  on  one  of  the  benches  before  him,  nudged  his 
father,  at  whose  side  he  sat,  and  whispered:  "Papa ! 
Papa  !  NOW  it  goes  nice  1" 


68  DOROTHY  DAY 

But  grandfather  was  not  only  a  minister,  he  was 
a  mathematician  and  astronomer,  and  used  to  make 
the  calculations  for  Friends'  Almanac.  So  much 
interested  was  he  in  the  performances  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  that  once  upon  the  occasion  of  a 
week-day  meeting,  when  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  was 
to  take  place,  he  made  his  sermon  very  short  and 
"shook  hands"  with  the  Friend  next  to  him  ten  or 
fifteen  minutes  before  the  usual  time;  then  rushing 
to  the  wagon-shed,  he  took  out  his  horse  and  drove 
like  mad  back  to  his  home  where  his  burned  glasses 
and  his  telescope  were  awaiting  him,  in  time  to  make 
his  observations  just  as  the  moon  entered  t-he  sun'** 
disc.  There  were  three  brass  nails  in  the  "piazza" 
which  marked  the  meridian,  and  by  which  he  used 
to  correct  his  watch.  For  grandfather's  watch  was 
always  kept  in  excellent  discipline  and  was  never 
suffered  to  get  more  than  a  few  seconds  out  of  the 
way.  Once  he  made  us  a  wonderful  sun-dial,  a  dial 
with  five  faces — one  horizontal  on  top,  one  on  the 
south  side,  which  was  serviceable  most  of  the  time, 
one  on  the  east  for  the  morning,  one  on  the  west  for 
afternoon,  and  one  on  the  north,  which  could 
be  used  for  a  few  hours,  early  and  late,  during  the 
long  summer  days.  There  were  also  tables  upon 
this  dial  to  correct  the  sun  time  for  each  day  of 
the  year,  and  around  the  fa"*e  of  the  dirl.  at  the 
top,  the  appropriate  motto:  Non  numero  horas  nisi 
serenas — "I  count  not  the  hours  unless  they  are 
clear." 


DOROTHY  DAY  69 

Grandfather  was  always  a  welcome  guest  at  the 
houses  he  visited.  He  was  a  genial  soul  and  had  a 
vast  fund  of  anecdotes,  which  always  drew  around 
him  a  circle  or  listeners.  His  stories  were  generally 
about  Friends  and  their  experiences,  the  wonderful 
revelations  made  to  them,  and  the  odd  ways  of  many 
of  the  ministers.  He  used  to  tell  what  I  considered 
a  very  funny  story  of  Stephen  Grellet,  a  French- 
man, who  had  been  "convinced"  of  Friends'  prin- 
ciples. (Why  was  it,  I  wondered,  that  the  stories 
were  always  of  those  who  had  been  converted  to 
Quakerism  and  never  of  those  who  had  been  led 
away?)  Stpehen  once  astonished  his  auditors  by 
beginning  a  sermon  with  the  following  text:  "Ye 
mountains,  why  do  ye  skip  like  rams  and  ye  hills 
like  ze  little  moutons!" 

Grandfather  would  also  tell  of  James  Simpson 
who  was  "filled  with  the  power  of  the  Spirit,"  but 
who  could  never  preach  if  anything  went  wrong. 
Once  James  held  an  oppointed  meeting  in  a  barn. 
He  had  given  special  directions  that  all  fowls  and 
other  living  creatures  should  be  carefully  excluded, 
but  just  as  he  was  rising  to  deliver  his  message,  an 
old  hen  that  had  been  laying  unperceived  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  haymow,  flew  down  among  the  audience 
with  great  cackling  and  uproar.  Poor  James  was 
sadly  discomfited.  "I  told  thee  to  keep  the  hens 
away,"  he  cried  to  the  astonished  proprietor  of  the 
barn,  and  he  announced  to  those  who  had  gathered 
to  hear  him  that  they  might  go  home,  that  the  meet- 


70  DOROTHY  DAY 

ing  was  all  over.  But  they  remained,  and  after 
everything  had  again  become  quiet,  James  rose  a 
second  time  "and  preached,"  said  grandfather, 
"with  greater  power  than  ever  before." 

Grandfather  often  "had  a  concern"  (to  use 
phraseology  of  the  Quakers)  to  visit  various 
prisons,  and  adddress  words  of  comfort  and  encour- 
agement to  the  prisoners.  They  evidently  made 
game  of  his  sympathetic  heart,  for  after  a  visit  of 
this  kind  he  always  came  back  with  an  assortment 
of  stories  of  guiltless  men  convicted  upon  false 
testimony,  the  victims  of  peculiar  combinations  of 
circumstances,  which  unjustly  cast  upon  them  the 
imputation  of  crimes  committed  by  others.  After 
giving  an  incredible  account  of  some  marvelous  per- 
version of  justice  which  he  had  just  heard  from  the 
lips  of  one  of  these  innocents,  he  would  add:  "I 
do  believe  that  poor  man's  story  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart?"  Dear  grandfather,  with  his  simple 
faith !  When  at  last  he  lay  on  his  death-bed  racked 
with  pain,  he  heard  the  songs  of  the  angels  around 
his  pillow,  and  said,  in  the  words  of  his  beloved 
apostle :  "I  have  fought  the  good  fight,  I  have 
finished  my  course,  and  henceforth  there  is  laid  up 
for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord, 
the  righteous  Judge,  shall  give  me  in  those  days, 
and  not  to  me  only,  but  to  all  such  as  love  His 
appearing." 

Uncle  Samuel  and  Aunt  Martha  were  both  very 
good  to  me.  Uncle  Samuel  taught  me  to  ride 


DOROTHY  DAY  71 

"Dandy"  up  the  drive,  though  he  would  not  let  the 
horse  go  any  faster  than  a  walk.  "Martin  and 
Dandy"  were  the  two  "best"  horses.  Martin  was 
the  best  of  all,  and  great  were  the  feats  of  intelli- 
gence attributed  to  him.  Dandy  was  a  light  bay, 
better  looking  perhaps,  but  the  farm  hand  (who  had 
picked  up  a  few  big  words  at  school)  used  to  say, 
he  was  "not  so  intellectual  a  horse"  as  Martin. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  pike  from  Uncle 
Samuel's  and  a  good  way  back  from  the  road,  lived 
Uncle  Benjamin,  grandfather's  brother,  a  tall  old 
gentleman,  with  a  fine  face,  but  very  feeble.  He 
had,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  even  a  better  collection  of 
anecdotes  than  grandfather,  for  his  stories  were  not 
about  Friends,  but  about  green  Irishmen  who  came 
to  work  upon  his  farm.  One  of  these  named 
Timothy,  who  must  have  hailed  from  some  very 
verdant  quarter  of  the  "old  country,"  was  greatly 
perplexed  on  account  of  a  tall  clock  in  the  room 
where  he  was  to  sleep.  It  was  quite  dark  and  the 
great  figure  against  the  wall  with  its  menacing  tick, 
tick,  filled  him  with  alarm.  At  last  the  clock  struck 
ten.  The  poor  fellow  could  stand  it  no  longer,  but 
rushing  off  in  great  consternation,  he  cried:  "Faith, 
Misther  Benjamin  (for  thus  it  was  that  my  uncle 
had  directed  the  "help"  to  address  him),  there's 
a  man  in  me  room  that  hez  fired  at  me  tin  times  and 
now  he's  peckin'  his  flint  to  fire  again!" 

One  day  there  were  a  number  of  Quarterly  Meet- 
ing Friends  staying  at  the  house,  and  when  the  time 


72  DOROTHY  DAY 

came  to  harness  their  horses,  Uncle  Benjamin  asked 
him  on  which  side  he  was  going  to  put  the  gray 
horse  to  a  certain  carriage.  Timothy  had  entirely 
forgotten  how  they  had  been  harnessed  when  they 
came,  so  he  scratched  his  head  and  answered  with 
a  twinkle  of  his  eye:  "Sure  I  belave  the  gray  goes 
on  the  south  side  whin  the  stern  is  next  to  the  wind." 
Dennis,  another  Irishman,  was  very  proud  of  his 
skill  in  breaking  horses.  There  was  a  narrow  lane 
leading  from  Uncle  Benjamin's  out  to  the  pike  and 
just  at  the  gate  were  some  bushes.  Now  Dennis  had 
a  boy,  a  lubberly  fellow  named  Mike,  whom  he 
directed  to  stand  behind  the  bushes  and  cry  out  at 
the  passing  of  a  colt  which  he  was  breaking,  so  that 
the  animal  might  become  used  to  sudden  noises.  As 
Dennis  drove  by,  the  boy  rushed  forth  and  yelled 
at  the  top  of  his  voice:  "Bool"  whereupon  the 
colt  ran  away,  upset  the  old  man  and  broke  his  leg. 
He  was  brought  into  the  house  and  put  to  bed,  and 
Mike  came  into  the  room  and  tearfully  begged  for- 
giveness. "Ah,  Mike,"  said  the  father  in  discouraged 
tones,  "I  always  knew  ye  were  a  fule,  but  I  never 
knew  ye  were  such  a  damned  fule  to  make  such  a 
big  boo!" 

But  there  were  other  things  I  learned  at  Uncle 
Benjamin's  besides  these  beautiful  stories.  David, 
the  farm  hand,  showed  me  how  to  make  an  Indian 
whistle.  First  you  took  a  piece  of  flexible  wood, 
rather  broad ;  you  bored  a  hole  in  the  end  and  fast- 
ened it  by  a  string  to  a  straight  stick  which  you  held 


DOROTHY  DAY  73 

in  your  hand,  and  when  you  whirled  the  first  piece 
round  and  round  as  fast  as  you  could,  it  gave  forth 
a  dull,  buzzing  sound,  much  like  a  swarm  of  bees, 
and  David  said  the  noise  could  be  heard  more  than 
a  mile  away!  But  Uncle  Benjamin  had  a  hive  of 
real  bees  not  far  from  the  house  and  once  when  1 
was  whirling  my  whistle  and  wondering  how  so 
low  a  sound  could  be  heard  so  far,  the  bees,  aroused 
by  the  competition,  came  forth,  the  buzzing  for  an 
instant  became  louder  than  ever,  then  a  sharp  pain 
followed,  and  there  was  vocal  music  after  the 
instrumental,  while  I  ran  into  the  house  and  grand- 
mother bathed  my  face  in  cream. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OUR  SUMMER  HOME 

ONE  spring  Auntie  made  a  visit  to  the  seashore, 
and  while  she  was  there  she  took  a  fancy  to  a  house 
upon  a  hillside,  where  there  was  a  fine  view,  and 
before  she  came  home  she  had  purchased  it,  and 
told  us  we  were  all  to  live  there  with  her  during  the 
summer.  The  carpenter  was  soon  at  work  upon  a 
new  addition,  and  before  the  Fourth  of  July  (that 
most  dreadful  of  days  in  the  metropolis  to  the  quiet 
heart  of  the  Quaker)  all  was  in  readiness.  When 
the  time  came  for  us  to  go  I  was  nearly  beside  my- 
self for  joy  and  when  it  was  decided  for  some 
trifling  reason  to  put  off  our  departure  for  another 
day,  I  wept  so  bitterly  that  the  family,  overcome  by 
the  greatness  of  my  affliction,  set  off,  bag  and  bag- 
gage, immediately. 

That  same  evening  we  reached  the  cottage  and 
although  everything  in  the  house  was  topsy  turvy, 
it  seemed  to  me  a  veritable  paradise.  Next  morn- 
ing when  I  arose  and  went  out  of  doors  to  the  sum- 
mer house  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  I  found  that  the 
landscape  whose  charms  had  attracted  Auntie's  fancy 
was  indeed  very  beautiful.  To  the  east  and  south 
was  a  long  stretch  of  ocean  beyond  a  wide  expanse 
of  fertile  fields.  To  the  north,  far  in  the  distance, 


DOROTHY  DAY  75 

rose  the  blue  mountains  (for  such  they  seemed  at  the 
time  of  life  when  all  things  are  loftiest  and  fairest), 
a  little  nearer  was  a  range  of  lower  and  greener 
hills,  and  nearer  still,  winding  in  a  snakelike  course 
through  the  wide  plain,  glistened  one  of  the  forks  of 
an  inlet  of  the  sea  that  branched  out  into  many  arms 
like  the  tentacles  of  a  cuttlefish,  enclosing  peninsulas 
of  fine  farming  country,  dotted  with  comfortable 
mansions.  One  of  these  branches  came  up  in  a 
narrow  creek  almost  to  the  foot  of  our  hill  where 
it  was  lost  in  great  masses  of  cat-tails,  that  grew 
so  thick  upon  its  edges  that  they  seemed  to  stifle  it. 
The  plain  was  checkered  with  many-colored  fields, 
here  a  pasture,  there  plowed  land,  next  a  cornfield, 
then  a  patch  of  woodland,  the  whole  besprinkled 
with  houses  and  other  farm  buildings,  and  one  or 
two  small  hamlets.  Back  of  our  hill  was  the  village, 
which  we  used  to  call  "the  Pole,"  from  the  big  flag- 
staff at  the  post-office  where  four  roads  met,  and 
from  among  the  trees  rose  the  pretty  white  spire  of 
the  old  church,  which  has  long  since  disappeared. 
At  that  time  no  screaming  of  locomotives  nor  rattle 
of  trains  interrupted  the  quiet  of  the  place,  but  once 
a  day  the  Highland  Belle  or  the  Ocean  Storm 
steamed  down  from  the  metropolis,  a  trip  which  was 
always  made  at  high  tide — the  hour  of  departure 
changing  every  day.  Often  the  boat  would  run 
aground  especially  off  ujumpin'  Pint,"  as  it  was 
called  by  the  fishermen  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
sometimes  it  had  to  be  pushed  off  by  long  poles. 


7 6  DOROTHY  DAY 

We  could  see  the  boat  with  a  blue  rim  upon  its 
paddle  box  as  it  passed  up  the  river,  and  at  places 
where  the  banks  were  so  high  that  they  concealed  the 
stream,  the  steamer  looked  as  thougn  it  were  mov- 
ing across  the  fields,  and  the  foam  thrown  up  by 
the  wheels  seemed  as  if  it  were  earth  which  they 
plowed  as  they  passed  over  it,  though  we  could 
plainly  hear  the  intermittent  throbbing  sound  on 
the  quiet  waters  as  the  steamer  came  up  to  the  dock 
on  a  still  summer  evening. 

The  place  is  greatly  changed  now,  and  the  quiet 
village  has  grov/n  into  a  big,  bustling,  uninteresting 
town,  a  noisy,  untidy  place,  where  every  few  minutes 
long  trains  of  cars,  with  their  attendant  smoke  and 
dust,  come  rattling  past,  and  where  you  can  no  longer 
see  the  landscape  on  account  of  the  things  which 
conceal  and  deface  it.  Even  the  trees  that  have 
grown  around  the  unsightly  structures  add  little  to 
the  attractions  of  the  scene.  There  were  not  so 
many  of  them  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  those  nearest 
the  sea  were  cedars,  old,  rugged,  hardy,  stunted 
fellows  with  their  branches  bent  landward  by  the 
winter  storms,  looking  as  if  they  had  indignantly 
turned  their  backs  upon  the  offending  ocean.  The 
fish-hawks,  too,  who  used  to  build  their  huge  nests 
in  the  dead  and  dying  branches  and  bring  home 
to  their  brood  the  fish  that  glittered  and  struggled 
in  their  talons — these  have  also  in  a  measure  dis- 
appeared, finding  the  advent  of  so  much  noise  and 
smoke  and  civilization  uncongenial.  The  last  time 


DOROTHY  DAY  77 

I  visited  these  scenes  and  saw  the  old  charm  of  the 
landscape  fallen  into  ruin,  I  would  have  turned 
heart-sick  away  were  it  not  for  a  single  consolation 
that  remained  to  me.  Thank  God  that  sunsets  never 
change;  or,  rather,  that  in  all  their  infinite  changes 
their  beauty  grows  no  less  from  year  to  year!  The 
sunset  that  I  saw  that  evening  was  as  glorious  as 
any  my  childhood  ever  looked  upon.  Away  in 
the  depths  of  the  clouds  that  rolled  around  it  like 
luminous  moving  mountains  of  gold  and  crystal,  the 
great  fiery  ball  stood  for  a  while  close  to  the  edge 
of  the  hills  beyond  the  woodland  and  then  went 
down  on  the  other  side.  And  what  a  glory  was 
left  behind !  Mountains  and  domes  and  palaces  and 
soft  beds  of  golden  down,  where  one  might  be  at 
rest  and  dream  forever!  Have  you  never  wished 
that  you  could  glide  upon  the  wings  of  an  eagle 
down  that  long,  shining  pathway  toward  the  west 
and  there  recline  awhile  in  the  recesses  of  a  sunset 
cloud?  If  not,  the  glories  of  Paradise  are  not  for 
you. 

But  I  must  bring  you  from  the  clouds  back  to 
Auntie's  cottage  and  I  must  first  tell  you  of  the 
dumb  animals  about  the  place,  for  to  my  thinking 
at  that  time  they  were  the  most  important  things. 
First  there  was  the  rooster  and  his  eight  hens.  And 
such  hens!  They  used  to  lay  seven  eggs  a  day,  and 
sometimes  eight,  and  one  of  them  was  so  tame  you 
could  never  make  her  eet  out  of  the  way,  but  she 
would  stand  in  the  walk  in  front  of  you,  cock  her 


78  DOROTHY  DAY 

head  on  one  side  and  stare  at  you  as  much  as  to 
say:  "What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  And 
there  she  would  stay  until  you  almost  tumbled  over 
her.  She  liked  to  eat  out  of  your  hand,  and  you 
could  stroke  her  along  her  neck  and  across  her 
back  down  to  her  very  tail.  Then  there  was  Prince, 
the  dog,  who  came  to  stay  with  us  each  summer,  and 
found  other  less  desirable  quarters,  I  don't  know 
where,  during  the  remaining  nine  months  of  the 
year.  Prince  was  an  "E  Pluribus  Unum"  dog;  that 
is,  he  was  a  great  many  kinds  of  a  dog  all  in  one. 
He  had  a  long,  big,  round  body,  and  very  short 
legs  with  toes  that  turned  out.  He  had  coarse, 
grizzly  hair,  part  yellow  and  part  dirty  white,  and 
it  tumbled  around  his  eyes  in  a  confused  way,  giv- 
ing him  a  misanthropic  look,  which  was  justified  by 
his  behavior.  If  you  stroked  his  back  you  could 
feel  many  irregularities,  some  of  these  were  burrs 
which  had  become  buried  under  his  thick  mat  of 
hair,  but  most  of  them  were  bird-shot  buried  in  his 
skin,  shot  which  had  been  deposited  there  by  those 
who  had  had  scores  to  settle  with  him,  in  vain  efforts 
to  put  him  out  of  the  world.  Prince  was  desperately 
fond  of  Auntie,  whom  he  welcomed  with  the  mad- 
dest demonstrations  of  joy  and  whom  he  followed 
everywhere  upon  her  walks,  snapping  at  everybody, 
right  and  left,  and  dodging  the  stones  hurled  at  him 
from  every  quarter.  His  instinct  toward  depravity 
was  unerring.  The  boys  who  stole  our  watermelons 
were  never  molested,  but  our  friends  were  all  bitten 


DOROTHY  DAY  79 

in  due  form  immediately  upon  their  arrival.  Many 
was  the  time  he  kept  us  awake  all  night  barking  and 
howling  at  nobody.  At  last  I  set  about  the  task  of 
making  things  as  interesting  to  him  as  he  made  them 
to  others,  with  the  hope  that  he  might  be  induced 
to  leave  us,  for  Auntie  would  not  turn  him  away.  I 
pitched  him  into  the  cistern  at  the  barn  and  rescued 
him  only  after  I  though  he  had  been  frightened 
almost  to  death,  but  although  he  scampered  off  for 
an  hour  or  two,  he  was  back  in  time  for  supper,  full 
of  affection  for  Auntie  and  forgiveness  for  myself. 
That  dog  must  have  had  a  hundred  lives.  He  was 
old  when  he  first  came  to  us,  and  he  grew  to  be  a 
canine  Methusaleh  before  we  missed  him  upon  our 
annual  return. 

When  we  first  moved  to  our  country  house  we 
used  to  hire  Watson's  horse.  But  it  was  not  long 
until  we  bought  Terry,  and  then  father  built  a  barn 
for  him.  Terry  was  a  rather  scraggy  looking  gray 
beast  with  an  honest,  though  not  comely  Roman 
nose,  which  seemed  appropriate  in  our  family,  but 
his  sterling  qualities  developed  later  and  he  was 
found  to  be  swift,  strong  and  gentle,  a  horse  either 
for  the  carriage  or  the  saddle.  I  was  very  fond  of 
him  and  for  several  years  I  used  to  take  care  of 
him  and  rode  him  almost  every  day.  As  I  grew 
bigger  and  bolder,  I  would  try  experiments.  Some- 
times I  would  jump  on  his  back  and  ride  him  with- 
out saddle  or  bridle.  Once  when  I  did  this  he 
started  towards  a  small  cherry  tree  with  a  branch 


8o  DOROTHY  DAY 

just  high  enough  from  the  ground  to  brush  me  off, 
and  I  suddenly  found  myself  sitting  on  the  grass- 
plat  close  to  the  veranda,  while  Terry  disappeared 
down  the  front  lawn.  Later  still  I  used  to  jump 
fences  and  ride  circus-fashion,  standing  on  his  back. 
The  first  time  I  tried  this  I  had  a  striking  illustra- 
tion of  the  fickleness  of  fortune.  I  had  made  very 
careful  preparations.  I  had  put  most  of  the  saddle- 
cloth back  of  the  saddle  so  that  there  would  be  a 
good  place  to  stand.  I  had  taken  off  my  shoes  so 
that  I  could  not  slip,  and  letting  Terry  walk  slowly, 
I  first  rose  to  my  knees  and  then  stood  crouching? 
very  low  upon  his  back  in  most  unstable  equilibrium. 
But  gradually  I  got  used  to  it.  I  lifted  my  head 
higher  and  finally  stood  upright  upon  Terry's  back 
and  felt  very  grand.  Bogert's  boys  were  in  the 
adjoining  lot  gazing  at  me  with  wonder  and  admira- 
tion. This  spurred  me  to  further  endeavors.  I 
made  Terry  pace  a  little  and  still  stood  upright  upon 
his  back.  But  even  this  did  not  satisfy  me,  so  I 
gave  him  a  cut  with  the  whip  to  make  him  gallop. 
The  result  was  not  what  I  expected.  As  I  was 
behind  the  saddle  he  tossed  me  a  few  inches  in  the 
air  at  each  bound  and  I  went  across  the  field — 
jump,  jump,  jump,  till  we  came  to  the  fence.  There 
Terry  stopped,  but  I  couldn't  stop.  I  went  over  his 
neck,  and  over  the  fence  and  landed  on  my  head  in 
Israel  Hodgin's  field.  Then  Bogert's  boys,  who 
had  been  all  awe  and  envy,  set  up  a  shout  of  derision 


DOROTHY  DAY  81 

and  I  crawled  back  and  hobbled  home,  crestfallen 
and  embittered  at  the  world. 

I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  of  Bunny,  a  big, 
white,  pink-eyed  rabbit,  who  used  to  jump  up  and 
lick  my  face  when  I  tried  to  take  a  nap  upon  the 
lounge.  After  three  or  four  tastes  he  would  give 
me  a  small  bite,  as  if  to  say,  "the  sample  is  satis- 
factory, let  me  have  a  piece."  The  strangest  thing 
about  Bunny  were  his  two  big  ears,  so  transparent 
that  you  could  see  each  pulsation  of  the  blood  as  it 
coursed  through  the  dark  little  channels  that  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  the  Mississippi  River  and  its 
tributaries  as  they  appeared  upon  my  map  of  North 
America! 


CHAPTER  IX 

MY   COMPANIONS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES 

YOUR  boy  is  your  true  democrat.  Rank  and 
station  count  for  little  with  him  so  long  as  he  can 
find  a  comrade  who  will  tell  him  something  he  wants 
to  know,  or  help  him  do  something  he  wants  done. 

In  a  small  cottage,  a  little  way  down  the  main 
road,  lived  "Old  Conk,"  an  ancient  fisherman  with 
grizzly  beard,  who  always  went  barefoot,  and  one 
of  his  great  toes  turned  over  the  smaller  ones  in  a 
most  interesting  way.  I  used  to  wonder  whether 
his  name  did  not  come  from  that  of  the  shells  which 
were  always  vocal  with  the  sound  of  the  great  sea 
on  which  the  old  man  made  his  living.  Among  the 
boys  of  the  neighborhood  he  was  rated  as  a  dan- 
gerous character.  He  was  liable  to  come  out  and 
shake  you  or  beat  you  almost  any  time !  He  had  a 
grandson,  a  barefooted  little  scamp,  who  for  a  while 
was  my  constant  companion  and  staunchest  friend. 
From  him  I  acquired  much  of  my  nautical  knowl- 
edge and  also  certain  linguistic  attainments.  I  had 
already  been  taught  by  Georgie  Underwood  a  num- 
ber of  dialectic  variations  of  that  great  boy-lan- 
guage known  as  "Hog  Latin."  For  example,  if 
you  wanted  to  say,  "I  will  not  do  that,"  you  might 
say  it  in  several  ways.  You  might  put  a  letter  "g" 


DOROTHY  DAY  83 

in  the  middle  of  each  syllable  and  say,  "Igi  wigill 
nogot  dogoo  thagat,"  or  you  might  add  a  uniform 
termination  to  each — "Igary  wiggary  noggary 
doogary  thagary,"  or  "Ivisa  wivisa  novisa  dovisa 
thavisa."  This  was  very  useful  for  those  who  wished 
to  communicate  in  secret  so  that  no  one  else  could  ever 
understand !  But  Pete  Conk  added  a  new  tongue — 
"Italian,"  he  called  it,  and  said  it  was  a  real  lan- 
guage, and  that  people  spoke  it  in  some  country 
far  away.  Its  main  feature  was  great  condensa- 
tion. For  instance,  if  you  wanted  to  say,  "Look  at 
the  sun,"  you  would  say,  "Seesun,"  all  in  one  word! 
I  found  that  this  language  was  much  harder  to 
acquire  than  the  others  but  doubtless  much  more 
valuable  after  you  had  learned  it!  In  exchange  for 
instruction  in  this  important  branch  of  education, 
I  told  him  all  I  knew  about  Italy  and  the  Italains, 
but  I  didn't  like  to  tell  him  that  I  doubted  whether 
this  was  the  language  they  really  spoke! 

Another  face  that  looms  up  distinctly  in  these 
days,  is  that  of  Jesse  Brown,  the  carpenter.  While 
he  was  at  work  on  our  veranda  I  was  his  constant 
companion  and  great  was  the  satisfaction  I  derived 
from  seeing  the  saw  go  through  the  boards,  scat- 
tering the  sawdust  on  every  side,  or  the  plane  that 
went  swish !  swish !  across  the  plank  and  made  it  so 
smooth  and  shiny!  And  then  I  got  to  know  the 
plummet  and  the  mitre-board  and  the  auger  and  the 
brace  and  bit  and  how  simple  it  was  to  make  many 
things  that  before  I  could  not  understand.  But 


84  DOROTHY  DAY 

it  seemed  to  me  a  great  shame  that  the  square 
columns  of  our  veranda  were  hollow,  when  I  had 
always  supposed  that  they  were  solid  all  the  way 
through!  How  many  things  in  life  are  like  them! 

Now  Jesse  was  something  of  a  politician  as  well 
as  philosopher  and  used  to  talk  to  me  a  good  deal 
about  "State  rights,"  and  "Sectionalism" — things 
that  I  didn't  understand.  He  would  say:  "The  con- 
servative portion  of  this  country  is  its  flower,  sir!" 
Now,  I  didn't  know  what  "conservative"  meant, 
but  the  word  was  such  a  nice  one  that  it  convinced 
me,  and  I  said:  "Yes,  that  is  so!" 

Every  First  Day  we  drove  to  meeting  at  a  little 
hamlet,  five  miles  away,  which  was  situated  at  the 
crossing  of  two  wide  and  well  shaded  roads.  It  was 
a  very  good  neighborhood,  Auntie  said,  for  it  con- 
tained three  places  of  worship  and  never  a  saloon ! 

The  houses  upon  both  the  roads  looked  large  and 
white  and  beautiful  as  they  nestled  back  among  the 
trees.  They  had  white  chimneys  with  a  black  rim 
around  the  edge  of  each,  just  where  the  smoke 
comes  out,  and  when  we  painted  our  chimney  that 
way,  and  also  put  a  false  wooden  one  at  one  end  of 
the  roof  to  match  the  real  one  at  the  other  end,  the 
whole  house  seemed  to  me  transformed  and  greatly 
improved. 

The  meeting-house  was  one  of  the  old-fashioned 
kind.  It  was  a  large  building,  covered  with  un- 
painted  shingles,  having  a  partition  within  of  slid- 
ing shutters  to  separate  the  men's  side  from  the 


DOROTHY  DAY  85 

women's  side.  The  woodwork  was  unpainted  and 
the  pine  seats  and  floor  and  shutters  had  become 
dark  with  age.  There  was  a  wood  stove  on  each 
side  and  the  stove-pipe,  supported  by  wires  from 
the  ceiling,  made  several  interesting  curves  and 
elbows  before  it  finally  went  out  through  the  high 
roof.  As  I  used  to  sit  in  this  meeting-house  on  the 
hot  summer  days,  the  songs  of  the  birds  and  the 
waving  of  the  green  leaves  outside  were  very  tempt- 
ing and  in  the  long  silence  I  used  to  think  of  all  sorts 
of  things  besides  the  "good  thoughts"  about  the 
Lord  and  the  Bible,  which  people  ought  to  think 
when  they  go  to  meeting!  The  flies  would  come  in 
and  buzz,  and  sometimes  a  big  blue-bottle  would 
take  his  stand  in  front  of  my  face  and  hum  and  flap 
his  wings  so  hard  and  fast  that  you  could  not  see 
them,  and  all  this  just  to  keep  in  the  same  place 
hanging  upon  nothing!  I  often  think  of  these  blue- 
bottles when  I  see  so  many  human  flies  who  flap  their 
wings  very  hard,  year  in  and  year  out,  yet  hang  upon 
little  or  nothing  and  stay  very  much  in  the  same 
place  all  their  lives! 

A  good  many  of  our  friends  used  to  go  to  this 
meeting.  The  two  that  come  first  to  my  memory 
were  "Becky  and  Anne."  They  were  ancient 
maiden  ladies,  distant  relatives  of  ours,  both  very 
thin,  small  and  deaf.  They  were  never  seen  apart 
and  no  one  ever  spoke  of  either  without  the  other. 
Their  last  name  was  never  mentioned;  that  was 
unnecessary.  They  were  always  "Becky  and  Anne." 


86  DOROTHY  DAY 

They  lived  alone  in  a  small  village  not  far  from 
the  meeting  in  a  very  old,  shingled  house,  which 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  main  street,  and  was  almost 
stifled  amid  the  trees  and  vines  and  big  boxwood 
shrubs  in  the  front  doorway.  One  wing  of  this 
house  looked  so  small  that  it  was  almost  like  a  play- 
house. That  wing  contained  the  dining-room,  whose 
raftered  ceiling  was  so  low  that  a  tall  man  could 
not  stand  upright  in  it.  As  for  swinging  a  cat  in 
such  a  room,  no  one  would  ever  think  of  it !  There 
were  tiny  windows  in  front,  only  a  foot  or  two  wide, 
and  a  little  table  in  the  middle  set  at  meal  times 
with  delicate  old-fashioned  blue  china,  little  plates 
and  cups  and  saucers  that  just  matched  the  little 
room  and  the  little  ladies  who  presided  at  the  table, 
one  at  each  end.  I  can  see  them,  too,  in  their  old- 
fashioned  carriage,  drawn  by  "Bennie,"  a  pretty 
sorrel  horse,  nearly  thirty  years  old,  who  trotted 
away  cheerily  and  briskly,  to  all  appearance,  though 
his  steps  were  so  short  that  it  took  him  a  long  while 
to  go  anywhere.  I  was  always  somewhat  in  awe  of 
Becky  and  Anne.  They  seemed  to  me  sharp  and 
"gruff"  when  they  spoke,  but  I  think  in  fact  they 
were  fond  of  me  for  they  gave  me  very  interesting 
books  to  read  when  I  went  to  see  them,  among 
others,  a  book  of  proverbs,  with  a  story  to  each 
proverb,  and  a  picture  with  each  story. 

I  must  not  forget  Jehiel  Porter,  who  kept  the 
store  at  Gosport,  a  homely  man  with  a  kind  face  and 
a  beard  that  grew  thick  and  heavy  upon  the  margin, 


DOROTHY  DAY  87 

but  around  his  mouth  and  chin  all  was  smooth 
shaven,  and  he  had  a  fine  row  of  white  teeth,  and 
very  big  hands!  He  lived  in  a  large  house  on  the 
main  street  of  the  village  only  a  few  doors  from 
the  store,  and  the  creek  ran  up  behind  his  back  yard 
where  he  had  a  boat,  a  yawl,  I  think  they  called  it. 
It  looked  short  and  fat  and  seemed  to  be  laughing 
at  you.  In  this  big  house  lived  Jehiel  and  his  wife, 
Sarah,  and  her  mother,  a  dear  old  Friend  who  was 
"a  little  out  of  her  mind,"  for  she  always  wanted  to 
be  "going  home,"  and  would  steal  away  from  the 
house  when  no  one  was  watching  and  walk  for  hours 
and  lose  herself. 

There  are  two  other  faces  that  stand  clearly  out 
in  my  recollection:  Mr.  Castleton  and  his  wife, 
Deborah,  as  Auntie  called  them.  That  is  just  the  way 
it  was.  It  was  Mr.  Castleton  an  dit  was  just  plain 
Deborah.  He  was  a  large,  handsome  man  and  very 
entertaining.  He  had  a  fund  of  amusing  stories  and 
agreeable  songs — "O  Watch  ye  Well  by  Daylight," 
"The  Low-Backed  Car,"  "When  the  Kie  Come 
Hame,"  etc.  He  used  to  say  he  did  not  see  why  every 
one  could  not  talk  well,  and  he  gave  the  example  how 
this  might  be  done,  for  wherever  he  was  he  did 
nearly  all  the  talking,  and  everybody  was  delighted. 
There  seemed  to  be  nothing  he  did  not  know.  His 
little  wife  Deborah  sat  in  some  retired  spot  and 
said  not  a  word,  yet  after  all  she  was  really  an  im- 
portant ingredient  in  that  combination,  for  it  was 
she  who  had  the  money!  But  I  thought  to  myself: 


88  DOROTHY  DAY 

"It  ought  to  be  worth  a  great  deal  to  any  woman 
to  be  so  well  entertained  all  her  life."  I  have  seen 
others  since,  who  bartered  fortune  for  entertain- 
ment, and  they  did  not  always  fare  so  well. 

But  the  most  striking  face  of  all  was  that  of  the 
Episcopal  clergyman  of  the  neighborhod,  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Drawfish.  He  had  dark,  dreamy  eyes  and  flow- 
ing locks.  He  used  to  speak  himself  of  the  resem- 
blance of  his  features  to  those  of  Christ  as  they 
have  come  down  to  us  in  the  paintings  of  Raphael 
and  others,  and  he  always  took  great  pains  with 
his  personal  appearance  as  a  man  ought  to  do  who 
had  such  a  priceless  possession.  His  face,  his  fine 
voice  and  classical  education  were  the  attractions  by 
which  he  sought  to  draw  men  to  his  particular  kind 
of  a  Redeemer.  He  talked  much  of  his  sacred  call- 
ing and  its  hardships — though  what  these  were  an 
indefinite  absence  of  particulars  failed  to  disclose. 
His  accent  and  intonation  had  all  the  marks  of  the 
Apostolic  succession.  He  rolled  his  "r's"  in  a  way 
that  no  "sectarian"  could  imitate,  and  none  but  a 
priest  of  the  "church"  could  ever  hope  to  acquire.  His 
diction  was  faultless,  his  sermons  poetic.  They  con- 
sisted mainly  of  similes,  and  if  you  could  once  recog- 
nize the  aptness  of  the  simile,  his  conclusions  were 
irrefutable.  His  parables,  however,  were  far  more 
gorgeous  and  impressive  than  the  simple  stories 
of  the  Testament  and  the  meaning  was  not  half  so 
clear. 

Humble  he  confessed  himself  to  be,  but  it  was  a 


DOROTHY  DAY  89 

kind  of  humility  where  there  was  vanity  even  in 
the  confession.  He  knew  his  own  worth,  and  still 
more,  his  own  attractions,  and  when  he  had  chosen 
for  his  wife  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  wealthiest 
of  his  flock,  he  conscientiously  announced  the  engage- 
ment to  his  congregation  on  the  following  Sabbath 
for  the  reason,  as  he  afterwards  declared,  that  he 
would  not  have  others  conceive  hopes  that  were 
unattainable !  He  would  sometimes  read  in  advance 
to  his  friends  the  sermon  he  had  prepared  for  the 
the  following  Sunday,  and  when  he  came  to  a  com- 
plete image  or  a  well-turned  sentence,  he  would  ask: 
"Is  not  this  a  graphic  illustration?  Is  not  that  nobly 
expressed?" 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  OCEAN 

THERE  is  a  good  deal  of  art  in  bathing  in  the 
surf  when  the  waves  are  high,  turning  your  back  to 
the  breakers  or  diving  into  them,  and  it  used  to  be 
great  fun  to  watch  the  greenhorns  try  it  for  the 
first  time  on  a  rough  day. 

Once  (but  this  was  years  afterwards)  Smithfield 
and  Johnson  came  to  see  me.  Smithfield  had  an 
innocent,  childlike  face  and  a  little  pug  nose.  After 
he  had  arrayed  himself  in  a  comical  baggy  suit  of 
bathing  clothes  he  walked  calmly  down  to  the  edge 
of  the  water  and  said  to  Johnson,  with  innocent  con- 
fidence: "Now  let  us  go  in  and  take  the  waves." 
The  breakers  were  heavy  that  day,  and  as  a  wave 
that  had  dashed  upon  the  beach  flowed  back,  he  fol- 
lowed it,  and  walked  into  the  water  calmly  and  con- 
fidently, facing  another  bigger  one  which  was  just 
coming.  I  stood  back  and  watched  the  consequences. 
The  big  wave  curled  over  just  in  front  of  him,  there 
was  a  dash,  a  wild  leap  of  spray  in  a  long  line  upon 
the  shore,  and  Smithfield  was  lost  to  sight.  The 
next  thing  I  saw  was  the  receding  water,  and  way  up 
on  the  beach  there  was  a  head  sticking  in  the  sand, 
and  two  legs  kicking  wildly  in  the  air.  Another 
wave  caught  him  just  as  he  was  getting  out  of  the 


DOROTHY  DAY  91 

tangle,  until  at  last,  battered  and  breathless,  he  be- 
took himself  to  flight  and  did  not  consider  himself 
quite  safe  until  the  door  of  the  bathing  house  was 
fastened  and  locked  behind  him. 

But  what  rapture  there  is  in  the  sea  to  one  who 
knows  it,  who  can  plunge  through  the  long  lines  of 
foam  and,  swimming  out  beyond  them,  rise  and  fall 
with  the  big  swells  and  watch  the  "multitudious 
laughter"  of  the  waves  around  him  as  the  sun  strikes 
their  glittering  crests  1  It  was  not  long  until  I  had 
learned  the  joy  of  this  and  began  to  revel  among 
them  as  if  I  had  been  one  of  their  own  creatures. 

Yet  the  ocean,  which  bore  such  raptures  in  its 
hours  of  merriment,  was  filled  with  terror  for  me 
when  in  the  darkness  I  could  hear  its  solemn  voice 
filled,  as  I  thought,  with  menace  and  despair.  There 
was  a  huge  wreck  far  down  the  beach,  and  one  day, 
when  I  went  to  look  at  the  great  spars  and  the  high 
prow  and  the  scattered  timbers  of  the  big  ship,  an 
old  fisherman  told  me  the  story  of  the  calamity. 
She  came  ashore  in  the  night  when  the  wind  was  wild 
and  the  waves  were  so  angry  that  the  boat  they 
dragged  along  the  beach  and  tried  to  launch  was 
dashed  to  pieces  when  the  first  breaker  struck  it. 
"The  sand  and  spray  were  blown  into  our  faces  so 
we  could  see  nothing.  All  was  black.  They  were 
close  by  and  we  could  hear  their  screams,  and  hear 
them  calling  to  us  for  help,  yet  we  could  do  nothing, 
but  hang  our  heads  and  let  them  die.  Only  three 
were  saved — one  was  a  man  whose  wife  was  torn 


92  DOROTHY  DAY 

away  from  him,  and  the  next  day  he  walked  back 
and  forth,  back  and  forth,  all  the  day  upon  the 
beach,  watching  for  the  sea  to  give  her  up,  but  the 
sea  kept  her.  Do  you  see  that  farmhouse  over 
there?  Well,  they  took  the  dead  to  that  house  and 
laid  them  out  and  all  the  rooms  were  full  and  then 
people  came  down  from  the  city  looking  for  their 
folks,  and  the  men  broke  down  and  cried  just  like  the 
women — and  one  of  the  bodies  that  came  ashore  was 
a  woman  and  she  had  a  baby  in  her  arms  wrapped 
in  a  shawl,  and  it  lay  there  as  if  it  were  asleep." 

That  night  there  was  a  full  moon,  and  from  my 
bed  I  could  see  the  mast  leaning  sideways  above  the 
bluff  a  long  way  off,  and  I  lay  awake  thinking  of 
the  dreadful  scene.  The  crash  and  the  waves  and 
the  spray  and  the  darkness  and  the  shrieks  and  the 
corpses  all  mingled  indistinguishably  together  in  my 
imagination.  The  more  I  thought  of  it  the  more 
awful  it  seemed,  and  I  reflected:  "If  even  upon  r!>is 
blessed  earth  such  things  can  be,  how  much  more 
terrible  must  be  the  endless  agonies  of  hell!"  I 
began  to  wonder  whether  perhaps  I  had  not  com- 
mitted some  transgression  which  might  cast  me  into 
its  unspeakable  torments — and  the  text  came  to  my 
mind  about  the  sin  which  finds  forgiveness  neither 
in  this  world,  nor  in  the  world  to  come.  I  remem- 
bered a  man  who  had  come  to  see  us  a  few  weeks 
before  and  had  made  a  joke  about  a  profane  song, 
and  I  had  laughed  at  it!  Perhaps  that  was  the 
unpardonable  sin!  And  my  poor  little  head  grew 


DOROTHY  DAY  93 

hot  as  I  lay  awake  all  night  thinking  of  the  horrors 
that  were  awaiting  me — from  which  no  escape  was 
ever  possible.  This  dreadful  nightmare  hung  over 
me  for  weeks  until  I  thought  I  should  go  wild.  I 
told  father  of  it,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  understand 
how  terrible  a  thing  it  was.  Every  night  I  could 
hear  about  my  bed  the  wind  and  the  dashing  of 
the  waves  and  the  shrieks,  and  I  could  see  that  poor 
mother  with  her  shawl  around  the  child,  both  swept 
together  into  the  merciless  flood.  Then  I  saw  be- 
fore me  an  eternity  of  such  visions,  all  for  my 
thoughtless  laughter,  which  was  to  have  forgive- 
ness neither  in  this  world  nor  in  the  world  to  come ! 

How  many  a  poor  creature  has  spent  his  life  in 
the  madhouse  because  he  pondered  too  long  over 
that  fatal  text!  If  it  might  be  permitted  to  sub- 
tract aught  from  the  sacred  word,  how  many  a  kind 
soul  would  blot  out  the  dreadful  menace  of  these 
cruel  lines  from  a  book  so  full  elsewhere  of  love 
and  gentleness!  But,  alas!  there  is  another  curse 
upon  the  expurgation,  and  many  a  child  who  has 
misquoted  his  text  and  added  something  or  left  out 
a  word,  has  fallen  beneath  the  shadow  of  a  fear  that 
perhaps  his  own  name  has  been  blotted  from  the 
"Lamb's  Book  of  Life." 

So  deep  and  lasting  were  these  morbid  thoughts, 
that  during  the  rest  of  the  summer  a  settled  melan- 
choly took  possession  of  me  which  was  not  dissipated 
until  I  was  back  in  the  city  and  at  school. 


CHAPTER  XI 

SCHOOL 

MY  health  was  so  delicate  that  I  was  not  sent  to 
school  until  I  was  nearly  eleven  years  of  age.  My 
education,  however,  suffered  little  from  this,  for  I 
picked  up  quite  as  much  at  home,  browsing  among 
readers  and  histories  and  biographies,  as  ever  I 
would  have  learned  in  the  class-room.  At  first  I 
went  to  a  public  school,  but  my  attendance  there  was 
very  intermittent.  After  a  week  or  two  I  would 
catch  cold  and  then  I  would  have  to  stay  home  two 
or  three  weeks  with  the  croup,  and  with  that  dread- 
ful ipecac.  There  are  only  a  few  recollections  that 
peer  out  from  the  mist  of  that  first  school  life.  I 
remember  that  when  any  of  the  boys  misbehaved 
they  were  sent  "on  the  line"  for  punishment,  and 
there  they  had  to  wait  until  one  of  the  teachers 
came  around  to  administer  it.  There  was  one  little 
scamp  named  Pierce  who  used  to  prepare  himself 
when  he  contemplated  some  atrocious  misdeed  by 
putting  on  two  or  three  pairs  of  trousers,  one  over 
the  other,  and  when  the  rattan  resounded  on  his 
little  legs  we  could  tell  from  the  sound  of  it  how 
many  pairs  he  had  on  that  day.  But  he  always 
cried  so  lustily  that  I  don't  think  the  teacher  ever 
suspected. 


DOROTHY  DAY  95 

But  it  was  not  long  that  I  went  to  the  public 
school.  A  private  academy  was  established  not  far 
from  where  we  lived,  and  I  became  one  of  the 
pupils.  This  was  a  much  nicer  school,  I  thought, 
than  the  other.  The  building  was  new  and  neat  and 
in  front  of  it  was  a  pretty  little  park  where  we  used 
to  play  during  recess.  The  boys  and  girls  were 
together  in  the  same  class,  the  classes  were  much 
smaller  and  the  teachers  were  much  more  pleasant 
and  polite !  There  was  Mr.  Trueblood,  who  taught 
mathematics;  Miss  Fowler,  who  instructed  us  in 
history  and  geography,  and  Miss  Hitchcock,  with 
whom  we  learned  grammar,  etymology  and  elocution. 
There  was  a  big  chart  upon  the  wall  of  the  assembly- 
room  where  we  recited  to  her  and  upon  this  chart 
were  all  the  sounds  of  all  the  vowels  and  I  was 
astonished  to  see  that  there  were  four  sounds  for 
ua" — aye-ahh-aw-ah !  We  had  to  stand  up  and 
repeat  these  sounds  every  day,  in  concert,  at  the 
top  of  our  voices.  And  Tom  Tucker  who  stood  at 
the  end  of  the  line  once  got  Joe  McDowell  to  prick 
him  with  a  pin  just  as  we  came  to  the  final  diph- 
thong, "ow!"  and  he  howled  it  forth  dismally  and 
at  great  length  in  a  very  natural  manner. 

Once  a  week  we  had  to  "speak  our  pieces."  Jack 
Sheridan  declaimed  "The  Raven"  so  grandly  that 
we  were  sure  he  would  become  one  of  the  finest 
orators  in  the  world.  My  particular  chum  was  Joe 
McDowell,  who  had  a  solemn  face,  but  who  was  real- 
ly full  of  mischief.  Once  when  he  was  called  upon  he 


96  DOROTHY  DAY 

gave  us  in  a  deep,  solemn  voice:  "Sing  a  Song  of 
Sixpence,"  gesticulating  very  impressively  and  pre- 
tending to  nip  off  the  end  of  his  own  nose  just  at 
the  close. 

Miss  Hitchcock  used  to  correct  our  compositions. 
I  had  written  one  entitled  "The  Wreck,"  of  which 
I  was  very  proud,  especially  of  the  last  sentence, 
which  described  the  scene  that  followed  the  catas- 
trophe. I  worked  at  it  so  long  and  hard  that  I  can 
remember  it  still.  It  ran  thus: 

"  'Tis  morn.  The  sun  has  risen  with  resplendent 
grandeur  and  the  sea  has  become  calm  from  its 
storm  of  the  night  before.  The  sea-gull  and  the 
petrel  are  the  only  visitants  to  the  spot  where  dis- 
appeared that  gallant  ship  with  all  its  precious  cargo, 
and  the  billows  of  the  ocean  alone  sing  a  requiem 
for  the  dead." 

When  Miss  Hitchcock  read  these  lines  there  was 
a  quizzical  expression  on  her  face,  and  she  asked  me 
whether  I  had  done  all  that  myself.  My  cheeks 
flushed  with  conscious  pride,  as  I  answered:  "Every 
word  of  it!"  I  think  now  that  a  good  part  of  it 
was  "fished"  from  certain  phrases  that  prowled 
perhaps  unconsciously  through  the  by-ways  of  mem- 
ory, but  I  am  sure  that  at  the  time  I  thought  it 
"very  original."  Another  composition  that  I  took 
great  pride  in  was  one  where  the  death  of  Napoleon 
was  contrasted  with  that  of  the  humble  Christian. 
I  had  worked  up  a  terrible  storm  at  St.  Helena,  as 


DOROTHY  DAY  97 

well  as  in  the  perturbed  spirit  of  Bonaparte,  and 
ended  the  scene  in  the  following  climax : 

"And  with  ' Tete  d'  Armee'  upon  his  expiring  lips 
the  conqueror  of  nations  rushed  into  the  presence 
of  his  Maker." 

After  this  began  an  adagio : 

"It  was  a  quiet  Sabbath  eve;  the  sun  was  just 
hiding  behind  a  mass  of  white  clouds  fringed  with 
gold;  the  church  bells  were  ringing  in  the  gray 
steeple  just  behind  the  wood,"  etc.,  etc.,  while  upon 
his  bed  the  good  old  man  had  visions  of  angels  and 
archangels  and  passed  away  with  a  smile  upon  his 
lips. 

Father  considered  this  a  very  edifying  produc- 
tion; as  for  myself,  I  prized  it  more  for  its  fine 
artistic  form  than  for  its  ethical  or  spiritual  value ! 

Besides  our  regular  instructors  there  were  others 
who  came  two  or  three  hours  a  week  to  teach  us 
special  things.  One  of  these  was  Mr.  Bendetto,  the 
drawing-master.  He  was  a  painter  of  some  dis- 
tinction, who  used  to  become  so  absorbed  with  his 
own  work  at  the  studio  that  he  never  thought  to 
come  to  school  at  all,  and  sometimes  at  the  end  of 
the  hour  he  would  rush  in  out  of  breath  with  flushed 
face  and  disheveled  hair,  exclaiming  in  repentant 
tones:  "I  forgot  it  again!" 

But  our  most  curious  and  interesting  specimen 
was  Professor  Jacquette,  the  French  teacher.  He 
had  a  shrewd  Gallic  face  with  sharp,  black  eyes 
and  aquiline  nose.  He  was  clean  shaven  except  a 


98  DOROTHY  DAY 

small  pair  of  mutton-chop  whiskers  just  in  front  of 
his  ears  which  were  always  dyed  black  and  dyed  so 
often  that  you  could  hardly  ever  see  the  little  bit  of 
gray  that  still  occasionally  peeped  out  just  at  the 
roots.  He  must  have  been  very  bald  for  he  wore  a 
black  wig  that  covered  all  his  head  except  two  little 
places  at  the  side  where  his  hair  was  dyed  as  care- 
fully as  his  whiskers.  I  am  sure  he  was  a  very 
old  man,  yet  he  acted  like  a  young  beau.  His  clothes 
were  always  carefully  brushed,  his  shirt  bosom  was 
always  white  and  shiny,  he  was  agile,  and  gesticu- 
lated with  much  grace,  and  he  was  politeness  itself, 
especially  to  the  girls.  Whenever  one  of  them  on 
entering  or  leaving  the  room  tried  to  walk  behind 
him,  he  always  tilted  his  chair  back  against  the 
blackboard  so  that  there  was  no  room  to  pass  and 
then  she  had  to  go  around  in  front  of  the  table 
where  he  was  sitting,  while  he  smiled  deferentially. 
This  seemed  to  us  the  acme  of  Parisian  courtesy. 
I  am  sure  none  of  us  boys  would  ever  have  thought 
of  doing  anything  quite  so  polite  as  that!  Yet  his 
courtesy  was  also  Parisian  in  the  fact  that  it  always 
yielded  to  a  stronger  impulse  when  a  sudden  puff 
of  anger  took  possession  of  him.  Once  when  the 
mother  of  two  of  his  pupils  wrote  him  a  little  note 
on  tinted  paper  saying  that  his  "system"  (for  like 
all  French  teachers  he  had  a  system)  was  "par- 
faitement  ridicule,"  he  jumped  up  and  stamped 
around  the  room  and  swore  dreadful  French  oaths, 


DOROTHY  DAY  99 

and  it  even  seemed  to  us  he  was  in  danger  of  tear- 
ing his  wig  off. 

Professor  Jacquette  told  us  delightful  anecdotes. 
The  two  which  have  been  most  firmly  fixed  in  my 
memory  are  "Ze  Tail  of  ze  Rat"  and  "Ze  Tail  of 
ze  Bear."  "Ze  Tail  of  ze  Rat"  arose  out  of  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  French  equivalent  for  "pie."  Various 
kinds  of  pie  were  spoken  of,  among  others  mince 
pie.  "You  like  meence  pie?"  said  the  Professor. 
"Ah,  I  nevaire,  nevaire  could  not  eat  meence  pie. 
For  vy?  Vun  time  I  valk  down  Broadway  and  I 
step  into  ze  restraurant  and  I  call  ze  garcon,  ze  vat 
you  call  him?  ze  vaitaire,  and  I  ask  him  to  breeng  me 
a  piece  of  meence  pie — and  he  breeng  ze  piece  of 
pie  and  I  put  him  in  my  mout  and  I  feel  someting 
vair  strange,  vair  strange,  and  I  pull  him  out  and 
py  gar!  zaire  vas  ze  tail  of  a  rat!  O,  I  nevaire, 
nevaire  could  not  eat  meence  pie  aftair  zat!"  The 
old  professor  dramatized  the  last  part  of  his  story 
so  realistically  by  his  gestures  and  expressions  of 
dismay,  that  mince  pie  was  not  a  favorite  article  of 
diet  with  any  of  us  for  some  time  afterwards. 

"Ze  Tail  of  ze  Bear,"  had  a  deeper  moral  pur- 
pose. It  was  directed  against  the  sin  of  exaggera- 
tion. "You  do  evair  exaggairate?"  asked  the 
professor.  "You  should  nevaire,  nevaire  exag- 
gairate. For  vy?  Vun  time  zair  vas  vun  grand 
gentleman  in  France  vat  have  ze  habit  of  to  exag- 
gairate, so  he  tells  his  laquai,  his  sairvante,  zat 
venever  he  do  hear  him  to  exaggairate,  he  pull  him 


ioo  DOROTHY  DAY 

by  ze  tail  of  ze  coat — so !  so  I"  and  the  professor 
gave  a  lively  jerk  to  the  tail  of  his  own  coat.     "So 
vun  day  zair  vas  vun  grand  dinner  at  zees  gentle- 
man's house   and  zair  vas  many  people   and  zey 
talk  about  ze  bear,  and  vun  man  say  he  kill  so  many 
bear,  and  vun  man  say  he  kill  a  bear  vot  is  so  big! 
And  zees  gentleman  say  he  kill  a  bear  vot  have  a 
tail  so  long,  so  long,"  and  the  professor  stretched 
out  his  arms  at  full  length.     "And  zen  ze  laquai 
who  stand  behind  him  pull  hees  tail,  so !  so !"  and  the 
professor  fitted  the  action  to  the  word.       ; 'Non! 
Non!  Parbleu,  Messieurs,'  zees  gentleman  do  say, 
'ze  tail  of  ze  bear  vas  not  so  long,  but  so  long  vas 
ze  tail  of  ze  bear!"     Here  the  professor  showed 
us  the  length  of  one  arm — then  he  described  another 
pull  to  the  coat-tail,  and  another  reduction  down  to 
half  a  yard,  then  down  to  a  foot,  then  six  inches — 
till  at  last  with  a  voice  full  of  humiliation  and  de- 
spair came  the  confession:     "Pardon,  messieurs,  ze 
bear  I  kill  have  no  tail  at  all,  and  I  no  kill  ze  bear." 
I  used  to  supplement  my  French  instruction  at 
school  by  conversations  one  evening  a  week  at  Mme. 
Des  Champs — "soirees,"  we  called  them — and  Annie 
Wayfield,  one  of  the  older  girls,  used  to  go  with 
me.     Professor  Aime  did  most  of  the  conversing, 
and   sometimes   he  would   read   to   us.     He   read 
quietly  as  if  he  were  talking  and  I  did  not  think 
him  half  so  fine  an  elocutionist  as  Professor  Jac- 
quette,  who  became  very  impressive  when  he  de- 
claimed passages  from  the  French  drama,  and  who 


DOROTHY  DAY  101 

was  the  greatest  of  all,  we  thought,  in  the  scene 
from  "Cinna,"  where  Auguste  first  discloses  to  his 
friends  his  knowledge  of  Cinna's  conspiracy. 

Our  hearts  all  thrilled  with  Gallic  fire  when 
Auguste  crushed  poor  Cinna  with  the  proofs  of  his 
perfidy;  and  we  used  to  wonder  whether  Talma 
himself  could  ever  have  declaimed  so  well  as  that. 

Aime,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  mild  little  man 
who  never  could  impress  anybody,  and  he  had  a 
little  girl,  a  beautiful  child,  whom  he  used  to  bring 
with  him  sometimes  to  the  soirees.  She  was  very 
well  behaved,  and  appeared  to  be  very  fond  of  her 
father,  calling  him  not  "papa,"  but  "Jean,"  which 
was  his  first  name,  and  talking  to  him  in  a  very 
familiar  manner.  He  told  us  that  he  had  brought 
her  up  that  way — and  we  all  thought,  "How 
strange!"  You  see,  I  am  dropping  the  "professor" 
and  calling  him  plain  "Aime."  He  was  that  kind  of 
a  man.  He  didn't  seem  to  care  about  his  dignity. 
And  he  was  right;  let  dignity  take  care  of  itself, 
I  say.  If  it  comes  naturally,  well  enough.  If  it  has 
to  be  tended  and  watched  and  kept  out  of  the  wet 
and  cold,  it  is  better  to  part  with  it  altogether.  One 
of  the  funniest  things  in  life  is  to  see  some  little 
fellow  with  a  squeaky  voice  looking  to  the  careful 
preservation  of  his  dignity.  Dignity  is  like  love 
"Sie  kommt  and  sie  ist  da."  Otherwise  it  isn't  dig- 
nity at  all. 

The  little  Aime  girl  was  the  first  child  I  ever 
heard  talking  French  and  it  made  her  seem  to  me  a 


102  DOROTHY  DAY 

very  learned  child,  for  she  spoke  it  much  more  cor- 
rectly and  fluently  than  I  could  after  all  my  study. 
Even  to-day,  I  cannot  hear  a  child  talk  French  with- 
out unconsciously  wondering  at  it.  To  hear  one  talk 
German  never  seems  so  astonishing.  The  German 
words  are  the  homely  household  words  that  you 
expect  to  hear  from  the  lips  of  the  little  ones.  But 
the  romance  languages  are  filled  with  Latin  deriva- 
tives— Latin  is  to  us  the  learned  tongue — and  to 
hear  the  baby  speaking  the  words  of  the  lecture- 
room  suggests  precocity. 

Sometimes  Mr.  Aime  could  not  come  to  the 
soirees,  and  his  place  was  filled  by  Mademoiselle 
Conet,  a  lady  of  advancing  years,  harsh  voice  and 
the  rudiments  of  a  moustache.  Somebody  once 
asked  her  if  she  were  a  poetl  Whereupon  she  drew 
a  fine  distinction  between  the  poetry  of  the  soul  and 
the  poetry  of  mere  words.  She  was  a  poet  of  the 
soul!  In  the  presence  of  nature,  of  the  flowers,  the 
sky,  the  forest,  her  soul  was  transformed  and  ex- 
alted, and  I  don't  know  what.  But  with  the  jingling 
of  the  rhymster  she  had  no  sympathy.  The  idea 
of  cramping  these  divine  thoughts  into  feet  and 
measures  was  abominable.  She  was  a  poet  whose 
thoughts  were  too  fine  even  to  be  set  in  words ! 
There  are  many  poets  of  that  kind  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SUPPLEMENTARY    EDUCATION COMMENCEMENT 

As  time  passed  on,  I  learned  to  smoke,  an  art 
which  I  began  to  consider  necessary  to  manliness  and 
self-respect.  I  learned  it  amid  the  tribulations  that 
usually  accompany  the  acquisition  of  this  useful 
branch  of  knowledge.  I  had  tried  cigarettes  several 
times,  and  they  had  never  harmed  me,  so  once  when 
I  was  in  the  country  visiting  my  friend,  Bob  Shaw, 
and  he  offered  me  a  cigar,  I  took  it  as  a  matter  of 
course  and  smoked  it  as  if  I  were  quite  used  to 
cigars  and  had  been  in  the  habit  of  smoking  all  my 
life.  But  a  little  while  afterwards  a  horrible  feel- 
ing overcame  me.  I  tried  to  stifle  it,  but  it  would 
not  down.  I  went  out  of  the  house  and  said  T 
wanted  to  take  a  walk  in  the  woods,  which  was  quite 
true,  but  the  dreadful  consequences  of  my  rash  deed 
were  not  to  be  postponed.  The  cause  of  my  pale 
face  could  not  be  hidden  and  my  previous  innocence 
of  this  manly  art  was  revealed  not  only  to  Bob  him- 
self but,  worst  of  all,  to  his  pretty  sister,  Janet, 
who,  I  thought,  had  looked  upon  me  with  a  certain 
admiration,  but  whose  smiles  afterwards  were  un- 
doubtedly those  of  pity.  I  would  have  been  willing 
to  go  through  that  ordeal  many  times  (and  it  was 
not  a  light  one)  if  I  could  have  kept  the  knowledge 


104  DOROTHY  DAY 

of  it  from  her.  But  my  cup  of  shame  and  humilia- 
tion was  full  till  I  got  safely  home.  When  the  fate- 
ful step  was  once  taken  I  was  bound  to  persevere, 
though  I  watched  more  carefully  the  size  of  the 
cigar  and  noted  the  strength  of  the  tobacco.  At 
last  I  could  smoke  with  anybody,  and  my  com- 
panions failed  to  floor  me  even  when  they  conspired 
to  put  hair  in  my  pipe.  Thus  does  the  boy  grow  in 
knowledge  and  discretion. 

Jack  Sheridan,  the  boy  who  was  to  be  an  orator, 
took  me  to  visit  him  in  his  home  up  in  the  Catskills, 
and  one  night  we  went  bobbing  for  eels  by  torch- 
light. It  was  midnight  before  we  returned  and  then 
Jack  brought  out  from  the  cellar  a  wonderful  treas- 
ure— a  bottle  of  champagne — "That  is,"  said  Jack, 
"it  is  champagne  cider,  which  is  really  just  the  same 
thing" — and  with  that  bottle  and  some  cakes  we  had 
a  Sybarite  feast  while  everybody  else  in  the  house 
was  fast  asleep.  There  was  something  deliciously 
wicked  about  the  union  of  champagne  cider  with 
such  late  hours. 

But  going  to  see  the  country  girls  on  Sunday  was 
the  greatest  fun.  Sometimes  we  found  a  swain  in 
the  house  who  looked  very  glum  when  we  entered, 
and  who  always  stayed  till  after  we  were  gone.  We, 
being  city  boys,  were  the  chief  attractions  so  long 
as  we  lasted,  but  the  swain  would  pick  up  a  little 
courage  and  begin  to  look  cheerful  as  soon  as  he 
saw  us  ready  to  go.  One  of  the  girls  had  on  a  rich 
brocade  dress  decidedly  faded,  which  had  come 


DOROTHY  DAY  105 

down  from  a  more  prosperous  antiquity.  There 
was  also  a  piano  which  spoke  in  faltering  accents  of 
a  more  illustrious  past,  but  there  was  nothing  fal- 
tering about  the  girl's  voice  or  her  dashing  figure 
as  she  played  and  sang  "The  Mocking  Bird"  with 
such  spirit  and  life  that  you  would  have  said  that 
the  bird  was  enlivening  a  marriage  festival  rather 
than  warbling  over  a  grave. 

Although  Annie  Jones  was  the  head  of  my  class 
and  delivered  the  valedictory,  I  had  a  good  deal  of 
glory  on  the  day  of  our  graduation  at  the  academy. 
My  child's  dream  of  writing  a  great  poem  had  not 
vanished  during  the  time  I  was  at  school,  and  I 
thought  that  an  epic  on  the  conquest  of  Peru  would 
be  a  worthy  theme  for  my  muse.  So  I  devoted  my- 
self to  Prescott's  work  and  projected  a  poem  which, 
if  it  had  been  completed  upon  the  magnificent  plan 
proposed  must  have  taken  some  ten  years  for  its 
composition. 

I  began  with  a  prelude  about  the  Vale  of  Cuzco 
and  the  great  temple  and  the  sun  rising 

"O'er  far  Sorata's  gleaming  peak," 

where,  after  dispelling  the  mist  of  the  valley  and — 

"Piercing  with  his  rays 
Its  every  nook,  he  seems  to  search  and  ask 
'Where  are  my  children?"' 

This  was  in  blank  verse.     Then  followed  a  de- 


io6  DOROTHY  DAY 

scription  of  the  glories  of  the  ancient  Peruvian  em- 
pire in  ballad  metre,  describing  how — 

"The  Inca's  rainbow-banner  waved  o'er  nations  near  and  far, 
Conquering  more  by  mild  persuasion  than  by  fierce  and  angry 
war," 

and  how  the  great  Huayna  Capac  on  his  deathbed 
told  of  his  father's  spirit  which  prophesied,  as  is 
the  custom  in  such  cases,  of  the  coming  of  the  white 
men,  and  how  he  divided  his  kingdom  between 
Huascar,  his  eldest  son,  and  Atahuallpa,  his  favorite, 
giving  Cuzco  to  his  first  born  and  Quito  to  his  best 
beloved,  and  advising  the  brothers  to  dwell  in  peace. 
Then  I  went  off  into  Homeric  hexameters,  though 
I  took  a  "poetic  license"  to  prefix  a  short  syllable  to 
some  of  the  lines,  like  a  grace-note  in  music,  as  I 
had  heard  it  called,  and  I  began  to  describe  the 
quarrel  between  two  Incas  and  the  invasion  of  Cuzco 
by  Atahuallpa.  The  hexameters  began  thus : 

"'Tis  the  Peruvian  summer.    The  tropical  sun  in  his  fervor 
Hurls  on  the  lowlands  and  sea-coasts  his  parching  and  pestilent 

arrows, 

While  on  the  lofty  sierras  his  fiery  beams  vainly  endeavor 
To  scatter  the  chill  of  the  winter  and  strip  the  snow  garb 
from  the  mountains." 

Then  followed  an  account  of  the  marshaling  of 
the  troops  and  the  battle  and  the  conquest  of  Cuzco 
by  the  tribes  of  the  North. 

Now  I  had  taken  so  long  to  manufacture  these 


DOROTHY  DAY  107 

various  varieties  of  verse  and  to  bring  the  Peru- 
vians down  to  the  place  where  they  were  to  be  con- 
quered, that  I  had  not  time  to  get  to  Pizarro  and 
the  conquest  at  all.  So  I  had  to  leave  that  out  with 
a  brief  allusion  to  the  "darkest  of  history's  chap- 
ters," and  an  invocation  to  Oblivion  to  cast  its 
"thick  pall"  over  the  events  which  my  great  epic  of 
manifold  versification  was  intended  to  celebrate. 

Perhaps  you  have  seen  some  temples  where  the 
portico  and  the  vestibule  were  so  elaborate  that  there 
was  little  room  for  the  sanctuary  inside.  It  is  said 
that  when  the  Roman  conqueror  inspected  the  Holy 
of  Holies  in  Jerusalem  he  found  there  was  nothing 
in  it.  My  poem  was  of  similar  construction.  The 
"Conquest"  was  so  entirely  absent  that  I  felt  con- 
strained to  change  the  name  of  the  great  work  and 
to  call  it  instead  "The  Fate  of  Peru,"  for  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  beginning  and  the  end  might  be 
enough  to  show  what  had  been  the  fate  of  a  country, 
whereas  many  intermediate  cantos  would  be  required 
to  tell  about  its  conquest. 

Even  thus,  however,  the  poem  had  to  have  a  con- 
clusion. Commencement  day  was  almost  upon  me, 
yet  the  rhymes  and  verses  would  not  come.  Then 
I  remembered  "Evangeline,"  how  Longfellow  be- 
gan: "This  is  the  forest  primeval,"  and  then  ended 
his  poem  in  the  same  way,  repeating  a  number  of 
the  lines  that  he  had  written  before.  Even  Homer 
sometimes  repeated  himself.  So  I  brought  out  my 


io8  DOROTHY  DAY 

introductory  verses   again   and  then  left  the   Sun 
seeking  his  children  in  the  Vale  of  Cuzco,  to  wit: 

"His  earliest  beams 

Appear  o'er  far  Sorata's  gleaming  peak, 
He  lingers  for  a  while  in  mute  amaze 
On  that  high  summit  that  the  wonted  shout 
Greets  not  his  coming.    With  a  searching  look 
He  pierces  the  deep  mists  that  hide  the  earth. 
The  shepherds  of  those  mountain  sides  are  gone; 
Their  pall,  the  vapors  that  conceal  the  vale 
Their  dirge,  the  winds  that  play  among  the  hills." 

Although  the  great  epic  of  my  youth  was  thus 
brought  up  with  a  rather  sudden  turn  at  the  end  and 
did  not  fulfil  the  promise  of  its  earlier  stanzas,  yet, 
is  not  that  the  fate  of  the  greatest  works  of  genius  ? 
The  concluding  books  of  the  Odyssey  or  of  Para- 
dise Lost  fall  below  the  standard  of  the  earlier  ones. 
The  Inferno  and  Purgatorio  are  greatly  superior  to 
the  Paradiso.  The  first  acts  of  Hamlet  and  Mac- 
beth are  better  than  the  last,  and  you  will  sometimes 
come  across  an  essay  of  Macaulay  or  De  Quincey, 
most  elaborately  conceived,  which  marches  along  for 
a  while  with  slow  and  steady  tread  and  then  makes 
a  sudden  rush  and  scramble  just  at  the  end,  so  as 
to  get  through  in  time. 

So  I  felt  that  with  all  the  shortcomings  of  my 
great  epic  there  might  some  time  be  a  laurel  crown 
in  store  for  me,  and  my  ambitions  were  further  con- 
firmed by  the  motto  affixed  to  my  commencement 


DOROTHY  DAY  109 

bouquet,  sent  by  some  unknown  hand:  "Conse- 
quitur  quodcunque  petit" — "He  attains  whatever  he 
seeks."  This  inspired  me  for  two  or  three  weeks 
afterwards  with  immense  determination! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

i 

PREPARING   FOR   COLLEGE 

i 

AFTER  my  graduation  it  was  determined  that  I 
should  go  to  college,  but  mother  could  not  have  me 
away  from  home,  so  a  college  in  the  city  was 
selected.  It  was  decided  I  should  have  a  tutor  and 
a  certain  Mr.  Hobson  was  employed.  Exactly  why 
we  chose  him  I  do  not  know.  He  was  a  man  over 
seventy  years  of  age;  his  clothes  were  always  dirty, 
he  waddled  like  a  duck  as  he  came  down  the  street 
and  always  carried  a  market-basket  on  his  arm  con- 
taining an  assortment  of  old  text-books.  He  had 
a  flabby  face  and  a  double  chin  and  two  little  leer- 
ing eyes  close  to  a  huge  nose  with  a  beard  at  the 
end  of  it — a  beard  which  he  shaved  only  twice  a 
week,  so  that  on  Wednesday  and  Saturday  his  nose 
looked  very  grisly.  Every  two  or  three  days  he 
would  borrow  a  quarter  or  sometimes  a  dime  for 
carfare,  which  he  always  forgot  to  pay  back.  He 
was  a  disagreeable  old  fellow,  but  he  understood 
Latin  grammar  and  Greek  verbs  "av  ovo  usque  ad 
mala,"  and  under  his  instruction  I  pushed  ahead  at 
a  rapid  rate. 

Hobson  was  a  great  scandal-monger,  and  when 
at  my  recommendation  he  was  employed  by  Mr. 
Macdonald  as  a  tutor  for  his  boys,  who  were  two 


DOROTHY  DAY  in 

of  my  closest  friends,  and  when  the  father  agreed 
to  give  him  twice  the  price  he  asked,  he  showed  his 
appreciation  by  saying  that  the  man  must  be  a  fool 
and  he  retailed  to  me  a  lot  of  silly  gossip  about  the 
family.  I  found  he  acted  with  impartiality  between 
the  two  houses  in  this  respect,  and  after  trying  in 
vain  to  stop  the  tattle  myself  I  called  upon  father 
to  see  if  he  couldn't  silence  the  old  man.  At  first 
father  was  disposed  to  laugh  at  the  thing,  but  find- 
ing I  insisted  he  came  down  one  morning  with  a 
face  as  black  as  the  night — uuxr}  iotxcb?  — for  he 
brought  to  my  mind  in  an  instant  Homer's  descrip- 
tion of  Apollo,  and  when  he  accused  Hobson  of 
retailing  falsehoods  concerning  us,  the  old  man 
trembled  and  stammered  out,  first  lies  and  then 
excuses,  and  after  father  left  the  room  the  poor 
tutor  couldn't  tell  the  tense  or  the  mood  or  the 
conjugation  of  anything  for  the  rest  of  that  lesson. 
But  there  was  no  more  tale-bearing. 

Hobson  was  very  pedantic  concerning  trifling  mat- 
ters. He  made  it  a  great  point  that  no  one  should 
say  "The  City  of  New  York,"  but  always  "The 
City,  New  York."  Any  one  who  used  the  former 
expression  must  be  a  very  ignorant  fellow.  But 
after  a  while  I  found  a  Greek  genitive  used  in  the 
same  way,  that  disconcerted  him  greatly.  I  never 
liked  to  walk  out  with  him  for  he  used  to  forget  to 
wear  a  collar,  nor  was  it  pleasant  to  ride  with  him 
in  the  street  car,  for  he  would  stop  forever  at  the 
wrong  streets  and  always  talked  so  loud  everybody 


H2  DOROTHY  DAY 

could  hear  and  upon  subjects  I  didn't  want  discussed. 
He  would  explain,  for  instance,  where  I  could  buy 
the  cheapest  second-hand  text-books,  and  this  when 
I  was  with  friends  who  never  bought  second-hand 
books  themselves  and  who  looked  surprised.  When 
I  went  to  college  to  be  examined  for  admission,  he 
insisted  on  going  with  me  and  he  looked  very  dirty, 
stole  a  catalogue  from  the  President's  private  desk 
and  shuffled  his  feet  on  the  floor  in  a  manner  most 
exasperating  to  a  poor  pupil  who  was  struggling 
ineffectually  with  irregular  aorists. 

My  examination  in  Greek  was  not  triumphant. 
As  I  entered  the  room  with  Hobson  tagging  after 
me,  a  stately  old  gentleman,  clean-shaven,  with  a 
lofty  forehead,  large,  dark,  piercing  eyes  and  a 
mobile  mouth,  sat  like  one  of  the  gods  or  Titans  of 
the  elder  dynasty  in  a  high  box  or  rostrum  at  the 
end  of  the  room.  I  can  see  his  face  before  me,  as 
I  write;  it  almost  seems  to  be  surrounded  by  a  halo, 
so  dazzling  the  impression  left  upon  my  memory. 
On  the  wall  were  portraits  of  celebrated  Greek 
scholars,  Person,  Dindorf,  Blomfield,  and  I  know 
not  whom  else.  Against  two  sides  of  the  room 
there  were  long  benches  and  in  front  of  each  were 
narrow  desks.  Just  at  the  foot  of  the  rostrum  there 
was  a  big  chair  with  a  bookrest  on  one  of  its  arms 
and  in  this  chair  a  tall,  slim  fellow  was  then  under- 
going an  examination.  I  noticed  that  when  he 
scanned  he  always  called  a  dactyl  a  dactel,  and  while 


DOROTHY  DAY  113 

I  thought  he  translated  pretty  well,  Dr.  Grandi- 
son  (he  was  the  Titan)  did  not  seem  to  think  so, 
for  he  told  him  to  come  again  in  the  fall  and  try  it 
once  more.  He  called  me  next  and  asked:  "Have 
you  read  Plutarch?"  Now  I  hadn't  read  a  word, 
but  I  didn't  like  to  confess  it  in  that  splendid  pres- 
ence, and  in  my  confusion  I  answered  "Not  much 
of  Plutarch."  "Well,  in  that  case  we  will  take  the 
first  extract."  I  cast  my  eyes  over  it  but  couldn't 
translate  a  line.  He  had  caught  me  at  once  in  what 
might  be  called  "a  fib  with  mitigating  circum- 
stances." When  I  came  to  know  Dr.  Grandison 
better  I  always  "owned  up,"  for  the  consequences 
of  even  a  total  failure  were  less  to  be  dreaded  at 
his  hands  than  a  discovery  of  the  slightest  prevari- 
cation. He  was  a  masterful  man,  a  prince  of  old- 
fashioned  pedagogues,  full  of  his  jokes  and  his 
sarcasm  and  his  bonhomie  too,  toward  those  candid 
fellows  who  never  tried  to  appear  better  than  they 
were. 

I  was  examined  on  the  Anabasis.  But  by  this 
time  I  was  so  confused  that  the  paragraphs  turned 
themselves  inside  out  and  upside  down  and  I  made 
a  dismal  failure  of  it.  Meantime  old  Hobson  sat 
puffing  and  blinking  his  eyes  and  shuffling  his  feet 
and  adding  tenfold  to  my  humiliation. 

But  Dr.  Grandison  gave  me  a  last  chance  at 
Homer.  The  passage  was  in  the  third  book,  an 
invocation  to  old  father  Jupiter.  I  can  hear  the 


ii4  DOROTHY  DAY 

dactyls  and  spondees   ringing  in  my  ears  to-day. 
This  was  the  opening  line  : 


Zsu  xodtffTS  fjiSiffr£    xat  o.^o.va.Tot  9sol 


In  Homer  the  verses  and  the  sense  were  so  linked 
together  that  my  memory  could  not  be  upset  even  by 
embarrassment.  I  knew  the  passage  perfectly  and 
answered  his  questions  without  flinching.  "You  may 
thank  old  Homer  for  that,"  said  the  professor,  as 
he  marked  "passed"  upon  my  card. 

I  blush  even  now  to  think  how  green  I  was  in 
those  days.  That  summer  I  kept  a  journal  of  my 
doings  as  well  as  my  reflections  upon  the  common- 
place incidents  in  my  small  world  —  certain  verdant 
moralizing  and  a  philosophy  whereby  to  steer  my 
life  through  unknown  seas. 

No  one  shall  ever  see  that  journal!  Never!  For, 
though  I  am  willing  to  let  it  be  known  in  a  general 
way  that  I  was  a  good  deal  of  a  goose,  I  shall  not 
reveal  all  the  minute  particulars  of  my  folly.  There 
are  little  episodes  in  our  lives  that  no  one  ever 
dares  to  speak  of  after  he  has  reached  years  of 
maturity.  No  crimes  nor  any  great  wickedness,  but 
I  don't  think  we  would  be  half  so  much  ashamed  of 
them  if  they  had  been  cases  of  respectable  man- 
slaughter. Now  some  of  those  things  in  the  inno- 
cency  of  my  boyish  heart  I  put  down  in  that  journal 
and  I  think  it  great  good  fortune  that  I  stumbled 
upon  the  book  a  few  weeks  ago  and  destroyed  it. 
So  I  shall  certainly  not  tell  all  the  things  that  even 


DOROTHY  DAY  115 

now  make  my  flesh  creep,  just  as  it  creeps  when  a 
pencil  is  scratched  the  wrong  way  upon  a  slate. 

I  think  I  was  most  ridiculous  in  the  presence  of 
young  women.  I  could  overcome  my  fears  of  phy- 
sical suffering  or  danger  much  more  quickly  than 
my  bashfulness.  It  seemed  to  me  that  girls  were 
always  making  fun  of  me,  and  a  boy  may  be  willing 
to  be  pounded  by  another  boy,  but  he  does  not  like 
to  be  laughed  at  by  a  girl.  One,  the  prettiest  girl 
I  ever  knew,  was  Delia  Carlisle.  She  had  wavy 
light  brown  hair,  blue  eyes  and  lips  that  were  al- 
ways laughing.  She  knew  I  was  afraid  of  her  and 
used  to  say  the  sauciest  and  most  tantalizing  things, 
and  somehow  my  tongue  would  stick  to  my  mouth 
so  I  could  never  answer.  I  was  so  bashful  that  if 
she  sat  by  my  side  upon  a  bench  or  sofa  I  would 
unconsciously  "edge  off"  to  the  opposite  end.  Some- 
times, on  the  other  hand,  I  was  inordinately  im- 
pudent and  assumed  an  extraordinary  boldness  as 
a  cover  for  my  fear.  Two-thirds  of  the  ill-man- 
nered men  of  the  world  owe  their  bad  graces  to  their 
timidity.  They  are  rude  or  reserved  because  they 
are  afraid  to  be  natural. 

After  I  had  finished  my  college  entrance  examina- 
tions, Joe  McDowell  and  I  agreed  to  ask  two  of  our 
girl  friends  to  go  with  us  to  the  coming  commence- 
ment. Joe  was  to  ask  Mattie  Halfine  and  I  was  to 
ask  Bessie  Brown.  Each  was  to  support  the  other 
loyally  in  his  undertaking  by  standing  just  around 
the  corner  of  the  street  while  his  companion  made 


n6  DOROTHY  DAY 

the  call  and  gave  the  invitation.  It  rained  on  the 
day  that  this  was  done.  Now  exactly  what  consola- 
tion either  Joe  or  I  could  derive  in  preferring  our 
requests  from  the  fact  that  there  was  a  companion 
standing  outside  in  the  rain  and  awaiting  the  out- 
come, I  am  at  this  maturer  period  of  life  not  quite 
prepared  to  explain,  but  it  is  certain  that  this  moral 
support  seemed  needful,  and  a  slight  drenching  was 
a  small  price  to  pay  for  the  mutual  protection  af- 
forded by  such  friendship. 

The  girls  went  with  us  to  the  commencement,  but 
neither  we  nor  they  knew  how  to  act  nor  what  to  do, 
and  when  afterwards  we  invited  them  to  Del- 
monico's,  we  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  of  what  we 
ought  to  call  for,  and  a  great  solemn  looking  waiter 
in  a  swallow-tailed  coat  seemed  to  be  smiling  upon 
our  inexperience. 

All  through  life  I  have  had  a  constant  dread  of 
a  silent,  well-dressed,  experienced  man-servant. 
Whenever  his  own  manners  are  irreproachable  it  al- 
ways seems  to  me  that  he  is  offering  a  silent  criticism 
upon  mine,  and  that  when  tried  by  his  inexorable 
standard,  I  must  very  often  fall  far  short  of  what 
I  ought  to  be. 


Book  II 


THE  NEW  ERA 


CHAPTER  I 

MY   BEARD 

IF  the  day  of  his  birth  begins  the  first  period  in 
a  boy's  life,  his  second  great  cycle  of  existence  un- 
doubtedly commences  when  he  first  puts  the  razor 
to  his  face.  This  is  the  new  Anno  Domini  from 
which  all  things  ought  henceforth  to  be  reckoned  in 
place  of  the  Anno  Mundi  of  the  past;  it  is  the  time 
when  childhood  is  forever  put  away  and  when  bud- 
ding manhood  with  its  new  glories  and  responsi- 
bilities sets  forth  upon  its  proud  career. 

Therefore  since  the  immortal  Homer  always  allows 
at  least  a  preliminary  line  or  two  to  the  rosy-fingered 
morn  that  ushers  in  an  eventful  day,  I  cannot  pass 
without  some  lingering  comment  over  the  great  step 
that  ushered  the  dignity  of  manhood  into  my  own 
life.  But  however  stupendous  the  subject,  I  refrain 
from  keeping  my  reader  lingering  over  the  story 
as  long  and  impatiently  as  I  waited  for  that  beard. 
O  those  weeks  and  months  of  grim  suspense! 
George  Downing  had  shaved  a  year  ago  and  had 
brought  his  razor  to  school  to  prove  it  to  us — that 
was  before  I  left  the  academy — but  although  I  was 
nearly  as  old  as  he,  the  marks  of  manliness  on  my 
cheeks  and  lips  were  still  entirely  latent.  This  could 
no  longer  be  borne!  It  is  well  known  that  among 


120  DOROTHY  DAY 

the  military  virtues,  endurance  is  often  evidence  of 
a  higher  order  of  courage  than  mere  impetuous 
dash — that  the  troops  who  will  charge  unflinching 
upon  the  enemy's  line,  may  waver  if  forced  under 
a  prolonged  and  wearisome  cannonade  to  await  the 
attack  of  the  hostile  force.  A  prudent  general  will 
therefore  sometimes  lead  them  forth  to  encounter 
their  assailants.  In  meeting  an  approaching  beard 
the  same  tactics  are  sometimes  adopted.  At  some 
period  in  the  long,  weary  waiting,  patience  fails  and 
the  boy  resolves  to  sally  forth  and  encounter  the  in- 
vader, of  whose  approach  he  is  certain,  even  though 
no  visible  evidence  is  at  hand. 

When  I  found  that  the  down  upon  my  upper  lip 
was  thicker  than  it  had  been  in  childhood,  I  took  that 
for  encouragement  enough  and  determined  to  act. 
I  did  not  dare  go  to  a  barber  for  I  knew  he  would 
laugh  at  me.  I  would  do  the  work  myself  and  in 
secrecy.  So  I  furtively  purchased  the  necessary  ap- 
paratus, and  even  this  with  much  apprehension, 
speaking  to  the  vendor  in  such  a  way  that  I  hoped  he 
would  think  I  was  buying  it  for  someone  else.  There 
was  a  faint  smile  on  his  face  as  he  handed  me  the 
package,  and  I  never  went  to  that  shop  again.  Be- 
ware, O  tradesman,  how  you  discover  the  foibles 
of  youth  or  it  may  cost  you  many  a  customer ! 

I  had  watched  my  father's  proceedings  down  to 
the  most  minute  particular,  and  now  tried  to  imitate 
them  with  Chinese  fidelity.  I  was  astonished  to 
feel  how  cold  the  lather  was  after  the  warm  water 


DOROTHY  DAY  121 

evaporated.  As  to  the  razor,  I  could  not  quite 
make  out  how  to  hold  it,  or  which  way  to  draw  it. 
I  remembered  that  mother  had  often  cautioned 
father  about  his  jugular  vein  and  I  thought  it  would 
be  more  prudent  to  leave  the  neck  until  some  future 
occasion,  when  I  should  be  more  experienced.  I 
don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  while  the  instru- 
ment was  gliding  smoothly  over  my  left  cheek,  my 
hand  slipped,  and  there  was  a  big  gash  under  my 
ear  to  betray  to  an  inquisitive  circle  of  relatives  and 
friends  what  I  had  been  doing.  Father  saw  it  an3 
laughed.  Mother  noticed  it  and  anxiously  besought 
me  to  avoid  such  unnecessary  perils.  Cousin  Jasper 
perceived  it  and  told  me  about  the  soft  downy  feel- 
ing on  the  upper  lip  that  I  would  never  have  again. 
Some  of  my  classmates  observed  it  but  they  made 
less  account  of  it  than  I  had  feared,  having  perhaps 
similar  experiences  or  anticipations  of  their  own. 
Until  my  face  was  healed,  I  remained  as  far  as  I 
could  a  hermit  from  the  world,  especially  from  the 
feminine  part  of  it.  But  when  the  gash  became  im- 
perceptible the  embarrasing  observations  were  dis- 
continued. My  next  effort  was  less  calamitous,  and 
in  time  I  came  to  approach  even  the  fatal  jugular, 
and  this,  too,  when  there  was  little  need  for  such  a 
risk,  for  it  was  still  some  months  before  anything 
like  a  beard  came  to  justify  the  use  of  the  razor  that 
had  so  long  anticipated  it. 

But  the  beard  was  only  a  symbol.  With  its  advent, 
and  with  the  beinnings  of  college  life,  the  tender  con- 


122  DOROTHY  DAY 

science,  the  Quaker  traditions  and  the  childlike  sim- 
plicity of  my  boyhood  were  swept  away  like  that 
down  upon  the  lip,  while  the  stiffer  and  hardier 
bristles  of  worldly  experience  grew  in  their  place. 
I  had  not  been  many  months  amid  my  new  sur- 
roundings until  I  grew  to  be  as  precious  a  scamp  as 
ever  took  part  in  the  madcap  pranks  of  disorderly 
students  and  made  miserable  the  life  of  long-suf- 
fering professors. 

Under  and  behind  this  transformation  there  yet 
remained,  no  doubt,  a  subsoil  of  better  principles 
which  lay  too  deep  for  total  extermination  and  which 
was  to  reappear  after  the  "wild  oats"  had  been 
sown  and  harvested.  But  to  all  external  appear- 
ances the  transformation  was  complete.  There  is  a 
part  of  college  training  not  laid  down  in  the  curri- 
culum, but  quite  as  important  to  those  who  acquire 
it,  as  Greek,  mathematics  or  philosophy.  The 
alphabet  of  this  kind  of  instruction  was  given  us 
at  the  very  outset  of  our  college  career.  Our  in- 
structors were  not  named  in  the  list  of  the  faculty, 
but  they  were  borne  upon  the  roster  of  the  class 
that  preceded  our  own. 

The  Sophomore  is  always  filled  with  an  earnest 
solicitude  for  the  proper  education  of  Freshmen. 
This  education  assumes  many  shapes.  Its  first  great 
object  is  the  extinction  of  all  forms  of  self-import- 
ance and  the  inculcation  of  the  virtues  taught  in  the 
beatitudes  which  bless  the  meek,  the  poor  in  spirit, 
the  reviled  and  persecuted.  A  good  drubbing,  just 


DOROTHY  DAY  123 

at  the  beginning  of  one's  career,  is  therefore  con- 
sidered a  salutary  introduction  to  college  life. 

The  very  day  we  entered  the  Sophomores  began 
their  beneficent  education.  They  drew  themselves 
up  in  two  lines  along  the  walls  of  a  narrow  passage, 
through  which  we  had  to  go  to  our  lecture  rooms, 
and  we  Freshmen  passing  between  them  in  single 
file  were  compelled  to  run  the  gauntlet  to  our  great 
discomfort,  being  thumped  first  against  one  wall 
and  then  against  the  other.  But  the  next  day  by  a 
master  stroke  of  tactics  we  turned  the  tables,  for  we 
entered  the  hall  two  abreast,  arm  in  arm,  and  by 
vigorously  rushing  first  to  the  right  and  then  to  the 
left  and  jamming  the  fellows  on  each  side  against 
the  wall  we  made  it  more  unpleasant  for  them  than 
they  could  possibly  make  it  for  us,  so  that  their 
efforts  for  our  moral  improvement  by  this  simple 
process  came  to  an  untimely  end. 


CHAPTER  II 

OUR  SECRET  SOCIETIES 

ANOTHER  important  step  toward  my  introduction 
into  college  life  was  the  initiation  into  one  of  the 
Greek  letter  fraternities  of  the  college.  There  is 
always  a  great  rivalry  among  these  fraternities  to 
secure  the  most  available  men  in  each  new  class,  and 
the  first  few  months  of  college  life  are  devoted  to 
an  earnest  canvass  by  the  members  of  these  secret 
orders  in  which  the  exalted  merits  of  the  Kappa 
Delta  Omega  are  contrasted  with  the  utter  worth- 
lessnesss  of  Psi  Theta  Omicron  in  a  most  convincing 
manner. 

Some  of  the  men  sent  out  to  "work"  us,  how- 
ever, showed  very  little  tact.  For  instance,  when 
Mortimer  was  setting  before  me  the  superior  attrac- 
tions of  the  Kappa  Phi  he  contemptuously  sneered 
at  the  Sigma  Taus  as  a  set  of  stupid  saints  who  had 
a  kind  of  chapel  and  prayer-meeting  services  and 
nothing  stronger  to  drink  than  ginger  ale.  But  at 
that  time,  poor  innocent  that  I  was,  I  determined 
that  this  was  the  kind  of  a  fraternity  I  wanted  to 
join,  so  as  to  preserve  my  little  white  soul  from  the 
world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil.  Thrown  thus  into 
the  arms  of  something  so  entirely  virtuous,  I  must 
confess  that  my  initiation  into  the  Sigma  Taus  was 


DOROTHY  DAY  125 

not  without  its  surprises,  both  as  to  the  ceremonies 
pursued  in  the  installation,  and  the  illusory  char- 
acter of  the  sanctity  of  the  organization  itself.  I 
may  not  reveal  the  details.  It  was  such  great  fun, 
however,  that  I  not  only  became  hardened  in  sin  in 
a  very  brief  space  of  time,  but  grew  intensely  eager 
that  those  who  were  still  without  the  pale  should 
participate  in  similar  solemnities.  Indeed,  we  were 
not  satisfied  with  plain,  ordinary  Greek  letter 
secrecy,  but  a  few  of  us  began  to  start  new  societies 
of  our  own,  of  a  very  evanescent  character  for  the 
benefit  of  simple-minded  "neutrals"  who  wanted  to 
join  something,  but  who  were  not  sufficiently  attrac- 
tive to  get  into  one  of  the  regular  fraternities.  One 
of  our  first  efforts  in  this  direction  was  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Delta  Omega  Rho  Beta,  the 
"Delectable  Order  of  the  Rag-tag  and  Bob-tail." 
We  held  the  initiations  at  the  houses  of  the  "charter 
members"  and  the  cellar  and  the  coal-vault  formed 
the  appropriate  setting  for  our  mysteries.  We 
would  blindfold  the  neophyte  and  tie  his  hands  be- 
hind his  back,  then  we  would  rush  him  out  into  the 
back  yard,  and  round  and  round  the  grass-plat  with 
many  delusive  observations  as  to  the  points  visited 
in  his  pilgrimage.  Then  we  would  lower  him  by 
a  rope  down  to  the  coal-hole,  where  the  bandage 
was  removed  from  his  eyes  long  enough  to  permit 
him  to  see  the  solemn  conclave  of  masked  inquisitors 
in  whose  presence  he  bound  himself  to  the  perform- 
ance of  many  impossibilities,  while  a  dim  light  from 


126  DOROTHY  DAY 

the  street-lamp  streamed  directly  through  a  grating 
upon  the  blackened  face  of  the  Mu  Mu  Pi  (Most 
Mighty  Potentate).  Then  we  would  blindfold  him 
again,  lead  him  into  the  cellar  and  tumble  him  over 
a  barrel,  typical  of  his  overthrow  should  he  fail  in 
the  performance  of  his  obligations.  Then  we  would 
bump  his  head  against  a  beam,  held  just  high  enough 
for  this  purpose,  thus  giving  him  visions  of  the  stars 
to  whose  heights,  if  faithful,  he  was  soon  to  soar 
(per  aspera  ad  astro].  Then  we  would  lay  him  on 
a  table,  take  off  his  shoes  and  stockings,  warm  his 
feet  in  front  of  the  open  furnace  door,  and  leave 
him  to  undergo  the  Sigma  Pi  Pi  or  "Solitary  Purga- 
torial Penance,"  while  the  inquisitors  went  up  stairs 
and  had  "a  time"  together,  descending  again  after 
the  night  had  waned  with  the  glad  news  that  the 
neophyte  had  been  elected  to  the  office  of  Mu  Sigma 
Alpha  in  the  brotherhood.  He  was  now  haled  into 
the  light  and  inducted  into  the  seat  of  honor,  where 
a  sponge  recently  dipped  in  ice-water,  was  prepared 
for  him,  and  he  was  at  last  told  the  meaning  of  the 
mystic  letters  and  informed  that  he  had  been  chosen 
the  "Most  Solemn  Ass"  in  the  fraternity. 

So  greatly  were  we  attracted  by  the  delights  of 
secret  societies  that  we  organized  them  everywhere, 
even  in  the  country  where  we  spent  our  vacations. 
There  was  a  great  charm  in  the  initiation  of  yokels 
who  did  not  understand  Latin  and  Greek  and  to 
whom  these  tongues  had  a  peculiar  impressiveness. 

Among  the  orders  due  to  our  creative  fancy,  one 


DOROTHY  DAY  127 

for  which  a  great  antiquity  was  immediately  ac- 
quired, was  the  E  Clampsis  Vitus,  whose  name  was 
taken  from  that  "blessed  patron  of  the  dance,"  as 
Irving  calls  him,  on  account  of  the  strenuous  salta- 
tory ceremonies  in  which  the  blindfolded  neophyte 
was  required  to  take  an  active  part,  being  urged 
thereto  by  switches  rythmatically  applied  to  his  bare 
legs. 

In  these  initiations  it  was  sometimes  adjudged 
that  the  aspirant  to  the  honors  of  membership  was 
also  entitled  to  the  "Grand  Propel,"  a  mode  of  con- 
veyance requiring  considerable  labor  and  which  was 
omitted  when  there  was  a  heavy  man  upon  our 
hands.  The  favorite  place  for  such  a  ceremony  was 
a  big  barn.  The  "charter  members"  arranged  them- 
selves in  two  long  rows,  close  together,  and  placed 
the  candidate  duly  bound  in  a  horizontal  position 
between  them.  Then  they  projected  him  from  man 
to  man  up  against  the  side  of  the  barn  with  a  sharp 
bump,  then  back  again  to  the  other  side,  until  they 
were  worn  out  by  the  exercise.  One  of  the  duties 
of  this  order  was  the  removal  of  signboards  from 
the  places  where  they  had  been  located  by  the  mis- 
directed judgment  of  their  owners,  and  of  fixing 
them  in  conspicuous  positions  which  we  considered 
more  appropriate. 

There  was  a  little  boarding-house  down  the  road, 
and  near  by  on  a  tree  was  a  sign-board  which  gave 
the  following  information:  "Moxon's  Cottag, 
First  Class  Board."  There  was  not  space  enough 


128  DOROTHY  DAY 

left  for  an  "e"  in  the  "Cottage."  On  Saturday 
evening  while  the  occupants  of  the  "cottag"  were  at 
supper  we  removed  the  sign  and  hid  it  in  some 
bushes  near  by.  Later,  after  everybody  was  asleep, 
we  took  it  down  to  the  Episcopal  Church  where  we 
screwed  it  very  firmly  and  securely  to  the  the  front 
door.  The  next  morning  the  congregation  was 
astonished  at  the  statement  of  the  new  use  to  which 
their  beautiful  edifice  was  to  be  devoted.  There 
was  much  indignation  in  the  neighborhood,  but  the 
guilty  parties  were  not  discovered,  and  we  always 
considered  that  Moxon  was  our  debtor  on  account 
of  the  advertisement  we  had  given  his  establishment. 

A  butcher's  sign  with  a  picture  of  a  purple  bull  in 
the  act  of  being  slaughtered  was  fixed  to  the  door 
of  the  office  of  the  village  doctor  and  surgeon,  while 
the  Quaker  meeting-house  was  ornamented  by  a 
sign,  informing  the  public  that  choice  wines  and 
liquors  were  to  be  found  within. 

But  the  richest  of  our  college  fraternities  was  the 
Alpha  Omega  Beta  or  "Ancient  Order  of  Busters," 
if  I  may  let  you  into  the  secret,  now  that  the  order 
is  extinct.  We  had  our  lodge  rooms  at  Straus' 
brewery,  behind  the  college,  and  there  were  two 
chapters,  the  Alpha  chapter  for  Seniors  and  Sopho- 
mores and  the  Beta  chapter  for  Juniors  and  Fresh- 
men. There  was  little  furniture  in  the  rooms  except 
the  big  table  and  the  chairs  around  it,  yet  there 
were  certain  "properties"  which  appertained  to  the 
two  chapters  jointly  and  were  quite  indispensable 


DOROTHY  DAY  129 

to  the  proper  celebration  of  our  mysteries.  For 
instance  there  was  a  stout,  thick  canvas  with  places 
to  hold  on  at  the  side.  This  was  our  blanket  for 
the  tossing  of  the  neophytes.  When  not  in  use  it 
was  generally  rolled  up  on  the  floor  next  to  the  wall, 
beside  a  thin,  sharp  rail,  which  was  applied  on 
appropriate  occasions  to  equestrian  exercises.  There 
were  other  paraphernalia  of  various  kinds,  but  to 
me  the  blanket  always  seemed  to  be  primus  inter 
pares.  It  has  indeed  been  greatly  distinguished  in 
literature.  It  plays  an  important  part  in  one  of 
the  most  celebrated  chapters  of  Don  Quixote,  and 
we  find  it  even  in  so  learned  and  solemn  a  book  as 
"Ekkehardt."  But  no  mere  literature  can  quite  do 
justice  to  the  sensations  which  accompany  a  good 
old-fashioned  blanket  tossing.  The  only  way  to 
learn  these  is  to  try  it — experientia  docet.  It  is  a 
very  odd  sensation  to  feel  that  you  cannot  lay  hold 
of  anything,  that  you  may  grasp  and  clutch  and  dis- 
tort yourself  as  much  as  you  like,  but  that  your 
efforts  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  position  which 
any  of  your  members  may  take  with  reference  to 
any  other  part  of  your  body,  nor  with  the  place 
which  your  body  occupies  in  space,  nor  with  the 
direction  toward  which  it  tends.  Another  curious 
thing  is  that  the  sensation  of  falling  is  much  more 
vivid  than  the  sensation  of  rising.  You  seem  to  go 
down  a  great  deal  more  than  you  go  up  and  it  is 
with  some  surprise  that  you  find  after  so  many  long 
and  perilous  descents  that  you  are  in  the  very  place 


130  DOROTHY  DAY 

where  the  tossing  began.  A  blanket  tossing  more- 
over is  unique  in  the  edification  which  it  gives  to 
all  those  who  see  it,  furnishing,  as  it  does,  the  great- 
est possible  variety  in  its  transformations  of  face 
and  posture.  If  the  victim  prides  himself  upon  his 
dignity,  if  he  is  one  of  those  solemn  wiseacres  who  is 
given  to  looking  down  with  contemptuous  benevo- 
lence upon  the  rest  of  the  world,  the  pleasure  de- 
rived from  his  antics  is  greatly  enhanced.  To  toss 
a  man  blindfolded  is  said  to  intensify  the  emotions 
of  the  victim,  but  it  certainly  detracts  from  the  de- 
light of  the  bystanders  in  centemplating  the  varied 
play  of  his  features,  which  is  indeed  one  of  the 
great  uses  of  the  entertainment,  and  might  be  espe- 
cially profitable  to  an  artist  or  a  student  of 
physiognomy. 

Now  the  A.  O.  B.  was  particularly  great  in  this 
feature  of  the  initiation  ceremonies.  But  we  had 
other  important  solemnities.  We  had  a  baptism, 
with  three  glasses  of  beer  "in  the  name  of  the  A, 
the  O  and  the  B."  We  had  our  mystic  pass-word 
"Straus,"  followed  by  the  appropriate  response  of 
"Lager  for  the  Crowd"  and  one  of  the  Teutonic 
servitors  of  the  brewery  was  always  close  to  the 
neophyte  as  he  uttered  this  solemn  sentence  with 
intsructions  to  bring  it  up  at  once.  Thereupon  a 
small  cask  was  produced  from  the  cellar,  which 
played  the  principal  part  in  our  concluding  cere- 
monies, until  we  sometimes  engaged  in  a  lively  com- 
petition on  our  way  home  as  to  who  could  walk  most 


DOROTHY  DAY  131 

unwaveringly  on  the  straight  line  which  divided  the 
flagstones  in  the  middle  of  the  pavement. 

Our  devotions  to  Bacchus  were  not  all  performed 
within  the  precincts  of  Straus'  brewery.  There  were 
other  places  where  we  worshiped  and  sometimes 
with  ludicrous  consequences. 

One  night  before  he  went  to  Europe,  Jones  gave 
a  symposium  to  the  boys  at  the  rooms  of  his  fra- 
ternity. The  punch  was  good,  and  when  in  the 
small  hours  he  parted  from  Meek  at  Union  Square, 
the  two  embraced  each  other  tenderly,  Meek  declar- 
ing (they  had  just  had  their  examination  in  mathe- 
matics) that  Jones  was  the  diagonal  of  a  parallelo- 
pipedon  and  Meek  was  the  other  three  sides,  a 
proposition  which  was  then  mathematically  true. 

One  night  I  had  to  see  Smithfield  home.  I  knew 
this  was  my  duty  and  that  Smithfield  ought  not  to 
be  left  unprotected.  Smithfield,  on  the  other  hand, 
insisted  that  the  trouble  was  entirely  with  me.  I 
did  not  feel  quite  .sure  about  it  myself,  yet  it  did 
seem  to  me  that  Smithfield  was  doing  things  which 
were  not  quite  normal.  For  instance,  he  lay  upon 
his  back  upon  the  sidewalk  and  there  intoned  a  pecu- 
liar apostrophe  to  the  moon,  which  was  shining 
brightly  over  him,  concluding  with  the  observation 
that  he  had  never  been  so  happy  in  his  life.  It  was 
not  until  he  was  safely  within  his  own  door  that  I  pro- 
ceeded homewards,  when  my  suspicions  regarding 
myself  were  at  last  confirmed  by  a  grave  process  of 
logic  (which  shows  the  inestimable  value  of  this 


132  DOROTHY  DAY 

branch  of  education)  and  I  proceeded  slowly  but 
surely  to  analyze  the  situation  in  the  following  mono- 
logue. "Formerly  at  the  northeast  corner  of  Fifth 
Avenue  and  Twenty-ninth  Street  there  was  one  gas- 
lamp.  To-night  at  the  northeast  corner  of  Fifth 
Avenue  and  Twenty-ninth  Street  there  are  two  gas- 
lamps.  Now  either  a  new  gas-lamp  has  been  put  up 
at  the  northeast  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Twenty- 
ninth  Street,  or  I  have  had  a  drop  too  much.  Quod 
erat  demonstrandum." 

As  no  man  can  properly  write  a  nation's  history 
and  leave  out  of  it  a  description  of  the  budget  or 
the  Treasury,  so  no  man  can  properly  describe  col- 
lege life  and  wholly  omit  the  financial  side  of  it. 

We  were  all  of  us  a  pretty  bad  lot  in  that  particu- 
lar. Norton,  who  was  required  by  his  father  to 
keep  an  itemized  account,  put  down  some  large 
expenditures  to  Eis  Kai  Eikosi,  telling  his  father 
that  this  was  connected  with  his  Greek  studies,  and 
indeed  it  is  the  Greek  equivalent  for  vingt-et-un,  in 
which  the  money  had  been  actually  disbursed.  But 
Norton  pere,  who  did  business  on  the  stock  exchange 
and  had  no  Achaian  environment,  was  always  grati- 
fied to  know  that  his  hard  cash  went  toward  the 
maintenance  of  things  so  classical. 


CHAPTER  III 

OUR   PROFESSORS 

AMONG  our  professors,  the  first  face  that  comes 
to  my  memory  is  the  venerable  and  stately  counte- 
nance of  which  I  have  already  spoken.  Horace 
Grandison  was  the  prince  of  old-fashioned  peda- 
gogues. Although  our  modern  instruction  is  better 
than  the  old,  and  no  one  wants  to  bring  back  the 
days  when  the  birch  and  the  ferule  furnished  the 
incentive  to  scholarship,  yet  there  were  great  men 
among  those  old-fashioned  pedagogues — kings  by 
divine  right  more  certainly  than  many  of  the  mon- 
archs  who  sit  upon  great  thrones — and  I  view 
modern  progress  with  half  a  sigh  when  I  think 
that  such  a  man  as  Grandison  will  never  come  again. 
I  can  see  him  now,  as  he  used  to  sit  on  his  high  ros- 
trum at  the  end  of  his  long  lecture-room,  while  the 
boy  who  recited  sat  at  the  other  end  and  the  rest  of 
us  were  ranged  in  rows  against  the  side.  He  was 
particularly  impressive  in  "Prometheus."  While 
we  were  reading  that  great  drama  it  seemed  to  us 
as  if  he  himself  were  one  of  the  gods  of  the  older 
dynasty,  a  living  protest  against  Olympian  upstarts. 
What  a  splendid,  broad,  high  forehead  and  what 
gleaming  eyes!  How  well  shaven  his  face,  how 
faultless  his  old-fashioned  collar  and  black  stock! 


134  DOROTHY  DAY 

And  what  a  voice!  How  rich,  full  and  musical! 
How  incomparable  was  the  Greek  tongue  when 
uttered  by  his  lips!  He  had  a  translation  of  his 
own,  a  noble  one,  which  we  were  required  to  learn 
by  heart.  It  existed  only  in  manuscript  and  nobody 
ever  spoke  of  it  to  him  as  his  translation,  but  it  was 
handed  down  in  note  books  from  one  class  to  an- 
other, and  woe  to  the  poor  student  who  was  not  the 
happy  possessor  of  a  copy  of  this  manuscript  ver- 
sion. Very  likely  this  was  not  the  best  way  to  learn 
Greek.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  taught  in  this  literal 
fashion  at  the  present  time,  and  yet  after  many 
years,  when  so  much  that  I  learned  in  college  is 
forgotten,  how  distinctly  do  the  stately  sentences  of 
Grandison's  translation  stand  out  in  my  memory! 
Take  for  instance  the  opening  passage  in  the 
prometheus,  where  Strength  and  Force  enter  with 
Vulcan  to  forge  the  chains  of  the  unfortunate  hero: 
"Now  have  we  come  to  a  far  distant  spot  of 
earth,  to  a  Scythian  tract,  to  an  untrodden  wilder- 
ness. O  Vulcan,  it  is  meet  that  the  mandates  which 
the  Father  in  his  good  pleasure  imposed  upon  thee, 
be  now  a  care  unto  thee,  to  bind  this  boldly-wicked 
one  unto  the  high-precipiced  rocks  in  indissoluble 
fetters  of  chains  of  hardest  iron.  For  having  stolen, 
he  has  bestowed  upon  mortals  that  ornament  of 
thine,  the  flame  of  all-art-aiding  fire.  For  such  an 
offense  he  must  needs  render  an  atonement  unto  the 
gods  in  order  that  he  may  be  taught,  if  taught  he 
can  be,  to  acquiesce  in  the  sovereignty  of  Jupiter 


DOROTHY  DAY  135 

and  to  cease  from  a  disposition  full  of  friendship 
unto  mortals." 

And  again  the  noble  monologue  of  Prometheus 
when  left  alone  by  his  tormentors,  written  in 
anapaestic  measure,  and  half  spoken,  half  chanted 
perhaps  behind  the  heavy  mask  of  the  actor  in  the 
great  theatre  of  Athens. 

"O  divine  ether,  and  ye  breezes,  swift  of  pinion, 
and  fountain-heads  of  rivers  and  countless  laughter 
of  the  ocean  waves,  I  call  thee  too,  Earth,  mother 
of  all,  behold  me,  what  wrongs  I,  a  god,  am  suf- 
fering at  the  hands  of  the  gods." 

How  indissolubly  do  the  words  of  Prometheus 
and  the  lips  that  pronounced  them  to  us  to  stand 
together  in  my  recollection,  until  it  is  impossible  to 
think  of  the  Greek  god  with  any  other  features  or 
voice  than  that  of  the  master  by  whom  they  were 
thus  spoken. 

Grandison  was  essentially  a  tyrant,  but  he  was  a 
tyrant  great  enough  to  win  the  love  of  those  whom 
he  oppressed.  They  said  that  in  his  grammar 
school,  in  earlier  times,  he  used  to  whip  each  day 
the  boy  who  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  class;  not  a 
very  fair  plan,  perhaps,  if  the  poor  fellow  had  done 
his  best,  but  withal  a  great  provoker  to  industry 
and  no  more  relentless  than  the  stripes  which  mother 
Nature  herself  inflicts  upon  her  backward  children. 
He  was  not  altogether  just.  Like  every  autocrat  he 
had  his  favorites,  yet  the  grounds  of  his  choice  were 
so  human  and  manly  that  we  loved  him  for  his  very 


136  DOROTHY  DAY 

partiality.  A  boy  once  caught  in  a  cowardly  action 
was  doomed  forever.  The  conceited  fellow  was 
taken  down.  He  could  never  scan  or  parse  or  trans- 
late except  under  the  lash  of  keen  sarcasm,  while 
the  modest  student  who  "owned  up"  like  a  man  to 
trifling  derelictions  found  his  path  made  lighter  and 
easier  through  the  intricacies  of  Greek  construction. 
Like  every  other  despot  the  professor  was  fond  of 
flattery,  and  we  all  became,  as  time  went  by,  a  set 
of  rather  clumsy  courtiers.  One  of  the  readiest 
compliments,  a  sort  of  legal  tender  in  the  market, 
was  a  warm  appreciation  of  the  bons  mots  that 
issued  from  the  lips  of  authority.  Therefore,  the 
professor's  jokes  were  greeted  with  an  enthusiasm 
quite  out  of  proportion  to  their  deserts,  which  were 
):ot  always  of  the  highest,  as  witness  the  following 
colloquy: 

Dr.  Grandison:     "Did  you  study  this  passage, 
sir,  before  you  came  to  recitation?" 

Student:     "I  looked  it  over,  professor." 

Dr.  Grandison:     "You  mean  you  overlooked  it, 


sir." 


Or  the  following,  while  a  student  named  Hadley 
was  reciting: 

Dr.  Grandison :  "Where  did  you  get  that  aorist, 
my  young  friend?" 

"In  Hadley's  grammar,  sir." 

"A  very  original  treatise." 

The  murmurs  of  admiration  which  followed  such 


DOROTHY  DAY  137 

sallies  warmed  the  good  professor's  heart,  and 
brought  mercy  to  other  delinquents. 

Another  professor  who  inspired  us  with  almost 
as  much  enthusiasm  as  Grandison  was  Dr.  Piper, 
our  instructor  in  mathematics.  He  was  a  short, 
stout,  round,  red-faced  man,  with  sharp,  black  eyes, 
careless  of  his  personal  appearance,  and  very  awk- 
ward in  his  movements,  stumbling  over  the  steps  in 
front  of  the  blackboard,  or  pitching  headlong  over 
our  big  astronomical  globe.  He  was  very  irascible 
and  there  was  a  tradition  that  on  one  occasion,  dis- 
daining to  use  his  official  power,  he  had  challenged 
to  personal  encounter,  then  and  there  before  the 
class,  a  student  who  had  offended  him. 

He  used  to  denounce  us  on  account  of  the  anti- 
quity and  lack  of  originality  of  our  college  pranks. 
He  told  us  we  might  make  him  the  subject  of  any 
practical  joke  we  chose  if  it  was  really  new  and  good, 
but  that  "to  witness  our  stale  and  stupid  perform- 
ances year  after  year  wearied  his  soul."  We  re- 
spected this  view  of  the  matter,  and  as  none  of  us 
had  the  talent  to  invent  an  original  joke  we  left  him 
in  peace.  We  felt  that  he  had  some  right  to  demand 
originality  from  others  since  he  had  a  large  share 
of  that  gift  himself.  He  was  so  eloquent  that  he 
could  illuminate  even  the  dull  field  of  mathematics 
with  divine  light.  I  remember  on  one  occasion  he 
demonstrated  the  nebular  hypothesis  of  the  solar 
system.  Given  the  law  of  gravitation  and  a  vast 
volume  of  gaseous  matter,  distributed  irregularly 


138  DOROTHY  DAY 

through  space,  he  traced  by  mathematical  formulae 
the  course  of  the  chaotic  mass,  how  it  must  begin  to 
revolve  and  form  great  rings  and  then  again  to 
condense  into  huge  spheres  until  we  seemed  to  see 
in  his  glowing  imagery  the  whole  process  of  creation 
and  to  stand  with  the  Almighty  watching  the  forma- 
tion of  worlds. 

Another  member  of  the  faculty  who  always  com- 
manded our  respect  was  Prfoessor  Wagner,  our 
instructor  in  ancient  history  and  in  Greek  and 
Roman  antiquities.  The  subjects  he  taught  were 
appropriate,  for  he  was  a  venerable  man  with  white 
hair  and  beard,  very  thin  and  very  precise,  such  a 
man  as  might  properly  be  the  living  embodiment  of 
antiquity.  But  the  old  gentleman  had  a  sense  of  dry 
humor  which  relieved  his  prim  behavior  and  exces- 
sive conscientiousness,  and  he  had  withal  a  warm 
and  tender  heart  which  revolted  at  unnecessary  pun- 
ishment for  mere  youthful  pranks.  Therefore,  we 
loved  him. 

I  remember  that  once  when  I  was  walking  to 
college  with  George  Fletcher,  we  saw  ahead  of  us 
a  large  flock  of  geese,  waddling  in  a  stately  manner, 
with  heads  aloft,  up  the  avenue.  It  seemed  to  us 
that  these  geese  would  be  a  very  appropriate  addi- 
tion to  some  of  the  classes  of  Professor  Newman 
who  was  always  exhorting  us  to  dignified  deport- 
ment. We  resolved,  therefore,  to  drive  them  into 
Newman's  room.  We  shooed  them  up  the  avenue 
and  around  the  corner  and  up  the  college  path,  not 


DOROTHY  DAY  139 

without  loud  protests  upon  their  part.  Such  a  scene 
offers  more  than  ordinary  attractions  to  the  average 
college  boy  who  happens  to  have  nothing  else  on  his 
mind,  so  it  was  not  long  before  the  flock  was  well 
guarded  upon  every  side  except  that  toward  which 
they  were  advancing.  We  finally  collected  them 
into  a  small  area  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  leading  to 
Newman's  room,  but  no  moral  suasion  was  sufficient 
to  induce  them  to  mount  these  steps;  we  had  to  pick 
them  up  one  after  another  and  "chuck"  them  to 
the  landing  at  the  top.  This  was  done  amid  loud 
cackling  and  great  outcries.  So  interesting  was  the 
occupation  that  we  did  not  notice  the  approach  of 
Dr.  Wagner,  who  now  suddenly  appeared  in  our 
midst.  His  face  was  a  study,  where  mingled  frown 
and  smile  showed  the  conflicting  impulses  of  duty 
and  inclination. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  with  a  deprecating  wave 
of  the  hand,  "please  desist!  Your  labor  is  unneces- 
sary. There  are  quite  enough  of  these  here  now." 

It  was  a  humiliated  crowd  of  boys  who  now  drove 
these  geese  back  again  down  the  college  walk  to  the 
avenue.  Professor  Wagner  never  referred  to  the 
subject  afterwards. 

These  were  our  favorites  among  the  professors. 
There  were  others  who  were  indifferent  to  us  and 
others  still  who  were  targets  for  our  pranks. 

There  was  Potter  for  instance.  Potter  was  a 
sneak  and  we  hated  him,  yet  we  had  to  be  careful 
how  we  tormented  him,  for  he  had  sharp  eyes  and  a 


1 40  DOROTHY  DAY 

vindictive  disposition.  Our  best  prank  was  played 
one  day  when  an  Italian  organ-grinder  with  a 
monkey  came  up  the  college  campus.  We  collected  a 
fund,  quite  a  large  one,  from  our  slender  allow- 
ances, to  be  paid  to  the  organ-grinder  if  he  would 
open  the  door  of  Potter's  room,  while  a  class  was 
reciting,  enter  the  room,  play  upon  the  organ,  and 
let  the  monkey  out  to  the  limit  of  his  tether.  The 
payments  were  arranged  according  to  a  scheme  of 
arithmetical  progression.  For  opening  the  door  and 
commencing,  he  was  to  have  a  quarter;  for  playing 
for  one  minute,  before  he  was  turned  out,  he  was  to 
have  a  dollar;  for  two  minutes,  five  dollars;  three 
minutes,  ten  dollars,  and  five  minutes,  twenty  dollars. 
And  one  of  us  sat  at  the  other  end  of  the  corridor 
with  watch  in  hand  to  mark  the  time.  Spurred  by 
this  unwonted  stimulus,  the  organ-grinder  opened 
the  door,  entered,  and  began  his  diabolical  strains. 
He  was  ordered  out,  but  being  an  Italian,  how  could 
he  understand  ?  We  heard  the  uproar  inside  the  room 
and  the  loud  voice  of  Potter  commanding  order. 
The  Italian  was  imperturbable  and  the  organ  was 
well  in  the  third  stanza  of  "Santa  Lucia"  when,  in 
the  midst  of  a  perfect  pandemonium,  the  professor 
came  down  from  the  rostrum  and  in  a  single  handed 
combat,  worthy  of  divine  hexameters,  finally  ejected 
the  Italian  who  had  now  earned  ten  dollars,  an  ex- 
penditure which  we  considered  the  best  investment 
we  had  ever  made  of  that  amount  of  money. 

But  though  we  hated  Potter,  our  worst  blows  fell 


DOROTHY  DAY  141 

upon  poor  Sheldon.  Sheldon  had  written  a  num- 
ber of  articles  for  the  religious  press,  exposing  with 
caustic  severity  the  errors  of  Rome.  Somebody  had 
conceived  the  opinion  that  this  was  the  sort  of  man 
needed  for  the  teaching  of  history  as  "she  should  be 
taught,"  and  in  an  evil  hour  Sheldon  was  appointed 
to  superintend  our  historical  researches.  He  was  a 
mild-mannered  little  man  with  scanty  knowledge  of 
the  world  and  absolutely  none  of  that  part  of  the 
world  which  was  represented  by  irreverent  college 
boys.  We  used  to  make  life  a  heavy  burden  to  him. 
We  had  a  choice  assortment  of  paper  monkeys,  ele- 
phants, giraffes  and  everything  else  that  might  go 
into  a  menagerie,  which  we  attached  to  putty- 
balls  and  projected  up  to  the  ceiling  where  they 
stuck.  Sometimes  just  before  we  entered  the  lecture- 
room  one  of  us  would  stand  outside  the  door  with 
a  bottle  of  Shaker  snuff,  a  peculiarly  strong  variety, 
and  each  would  take  a  big  pinch.  The  result  was 
that  all  further  proceedings  except  sneezing  became 
impossible.  We  would  go  into  convulsions  which 
actually  aroused  the  sympathy  of  the  poor  professor, 
who  could  not  imagine  what  evil  thing  had  over- 
taken us. 

Another  favorite  amusement  was  to  throw  a  hen 
into  the  room  during  examination  and  then  assist 
the  professor  in  a  wild  chase  after  the  terrified  fowl. 

On  one  occasion  a  noble  opportunity  presented 
itself  of  tormenting  Sheldon  and  Crawdle  both  at 
the  same  time.  Crawdle  was  a  little  pale-faced 


142  DOROTHY  DAY 

student  who  was  preparing  himself  for  the  clerical 
profession.  He  was  too  good  for  earth,  so  we  did 
our  best  to  send  him  at  an  early  date  into  the  man- 
sions prepared  for  the  righteous.  One  day  a  big, 
doleful  cow-bell  was  found  and  tied  to  a  long  string 
running  over  the  benches  back  to  the  place  where 
Crawdle  sat.  The  real  culprit  occupied  a  seat  right 
in  front  of  the  professor,  so  that  nobody  could  sus- 
pect him.  As  soon  as  the  fellow  who  was  reciting 
had  fairly  begun  his  account  of  the  schism  in  the 
church,  the  bell  began  and  Sheldon  looked  up  in 
astonishment. 

"Mr.  Crawdle,  what  have  you  got  there?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir." 

Evidently  that  must  be  a  lie.  Crawdle  was  called 
up  next  and  in  his  confusion  he  didn't  know  the 
difference  between  the  39  Articles  and  the  West- 
minster Confession.  So  he  was  sent  back  to  his 
seat  and  a  zero  was  placed  against  his  name.  No 
sooner  had  he  reached  his  seat  than  the  bell  began 
again,  whereupon  poor  Crawdle  was  called  upon  to 
report  to  the  faculty  at  one  o'clock  Friday  after- 
noon— the  day  and  hour  at  which  our  criminal 
assizes  and  jail-delivery  took  place.  But  still  the 
bell  continued.  The  whole  class  turned  upon 
Crawdle  with  looks  of  disapprobation.  "Shame  I 
Shame!"  we  cried,  but  the  bell  kept  up  its  monoton- 
ous jargon.  Finally  the  professor  ran  from  his 
rostrum  and  made  a  dash  for  the  corner  where 
Crawdle  was  sitting.  The  fellow  in  front  now 


DOROTHY  DAY  143 

pulled  the  string  so  sharply  that  it  broke  close  to 
the  bell.  There  was  one  loud  jangle  and  then  sil- 
ence, and  the  bell  was  found  right  under  Crawdle's 
seat  and  borne  by  the  professor  as  spolia  opima  up 
to  his  desk. 

At  the  faculty  meeting  on  Friday,  Crawdle  pro- 
tested his  ignorance  of  the  whole  transaction,  but  it 
was  of  no  use.  Two  warnings  and  two  admonitions 
was  the  sentence.  The  system  in  vogue  at  the  col- 
lege was  this :  Three  admonitions  were  equal  to 
one  warning,  and  after  three  warnings  you  had  to 
go.  So  Crawdle  stood  just  on  the  edge  of  the 
precipice  during  the  rest  of  the  four  years.  We 
knew  it  was  good  for  him.  Tribulation  would 
qualify  him  for  heaven  as  well  as  for  his  sacred 
calling. 

Crawdle  was  not  the  only  poor  wight  to  whom  we 
did  good  against  his  will.  When  the  entrance  ex- 
aminations were  held  in  June  we  got  possession  of 
one  of  the  lecture-rooms  and  organized  a  new  de- 
partment of  our  own.  Epworth,  who  wore  eye- 
glasses and  had  more  gray  hairs  than  any  of  the 
rest  of  us,  the  result  of  early  piety,  as  he  declared, 
was  duly  installed  as  professor  of  English  litera- 
ture. And  the  youngest  looking  fellows  of  our  class 
were  pressed  into  the  service  as  decoy  ducks,  en- 
gaged in  passing  their  entrance  examinations.  Then 
we  went  to  the  genuine  candidates  and  told  them 
they  had  to  be  examined  in  English  literature,  that 
it  was  a  new  requirement  just  adopted  by  the  faculty, 


i44  DOROTHY  DAY 

that  it  was  not  intended  that  any  special  preparation 
should  be  made  upon  this  subject,  but  the  examina- 
tion was  merely  to  test  the  intelligence  and  general 
information  of  the  candidates.  As  each  victim  en- 
tered the  room  he  saw  a  number  of  boys  who  were 
presumably  taking  examinations.  Epworth  sat  on 
the  rostrum  with  his  eye-glasses  on,  looking  very 
fierce.  As  soon  as  one  of  the  decoy  ducks  had 
finished  his  supposed  examination  the  novice  was 
called  to  the  chair.  "Give  me  the  names  of  all 
poets  and  dramatists  of  the  Restoration,  together 
with  a  list  of  the  principal  works  of  each!"  After 
the  wretched  being  had  stammered  something  about 
Shakespeare,  Milton,  or  Byron,  he  was  suddenly 
told,  "That  is  enough,  sir.  You  will  study  this  sub- 
ject thoroughly  during  the  summer  months  and  pre- 
sent yourself  again  for  examination  in  the  fall." 
And  the  trembling  aspirant  for  college  was  forth- 
with sent  out  of  the  room. 

Of  course  it  was  good  for  him.  We  all  knew  that. 
How  much  better  to  spend  his  vacation  in  the  use- 
ful pursuit  of  knowledge  than  in  vain  and  frivolous 
pastimes  I  And  if  he  came  again  in  the  fall  and  was 
not  examined  at  all,  he  would  know  that  much  more 
and  he  might  thank  us  for  it. 

Perhaps  poor  Newman  had  the  worst  time  of  all 
the  professors.  We  used  to  lock  him  in  the  lecture- 
room  and  then  sympathetically  offer  to  help  him  leap 
down  from  the  window  to  the  hard  pavement  twelve 
feet  below. 


DOROTHY  DAY  145 

One  of  us  brought  up  a  bottle  of  assafoetida,  and 
Norton  threw  it  on  the  stove,  whereupon  there 
was  a  general  exodus  from  the  room,  nobody  re- 
maining except  the  professor  himself  and  two  or 
three  of  the  faithful,  who  were  rewarded  for  their 
constancy  by  a  headache.  We  were  summoned  be- 
fore the  faculty  the  following  Friday,  but  so  elo- 
quently did  we  plead  our  cause  and  insist  upon  our 
natural  right  to  avoid  the  headache,  so  strongly 
did  we  denounce  the  wretch  who  brought  the  vile 
substance  to  the  college  that  we  were  not  only 
acquitted,  but  Prex  apologized  for  having  sum- 
moned us  at  all. 

Newman  was  particularly  unfortunate  in  uttering 
inappropriate  sarcasms  and  threats  which  he  could 
never  make  good. 

"Pleased  with  a  rattle,  tickled  with  a  straw!"  was 
one  of  his  favorite  quotations  after  some  of  our 
puerilities.  It  was  a  sentiment  always  greeted  with 
unanimous  applause. 

"If  I  could  catch  the  fellow  who  did  that,  I  would 
take  him  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and  kick  him  down- 
stairs." But  as  poor  Newman  could  never  catch 
anybody  at  anything,  and  if  he  had  done  so  could 
never  have  kicked  the  smallest  boy  in  the  class  any- 
where, the  terror  inspired  by  his  threat  was  greatly 
softened  by  the  impossibility  of  performance. 

Another  professor  who  stands  ut  distinctly  in 
memory,  but  in  quite  another  way,  was  our  professor 
of  German,  to  whom  a  tense  or  mood  or  some  re- 


H6  DOROTHY  DAY 

mote  allusion  was  of  far  more  importance  than  the 
dramatic  power  of  the  author  he  was  elucidating. 
For  years  he  deprived  himself  of  society  and  under- 
mined his  constitution  in  a  strenuous  effort  to  demon- 
strate the  meaning  of  Goethe's  "homunculus"  in  the 
second  part  of  "Faust"  in  opposition  to  a  heretical 
commentator  across  the  seas.  For  a  whole  genera- 
tion they  contended  in  erudite  articles  appearing 
about  a  year  apart.  One  day  the  professor  came  to 
us  with  despair  written  upon  every  feature.  "What 
do  you  suppose  has  happened?"  he  said,  "Richter  is 
dead,  and  he  died  just  before  the  publication  of  my 
answer  to  his  absurd  contention  in  the  in  the  Zeit- 
geist." We  sympathized  deeply  with  the  professor 
and  told  him  that  the  rest  of  the  world  was  still  open 
to  conviction. 


CHAPTER  IV 

OUR    ESCAPADES 

BUT  we  were  not  content  to  play  pranks  upon  the 
professors;  even  Prex  himself  was  the  object  of 
our  irreverent  practical  jokes. 

President  Fielding  was  an  old  gentleman  of 
benevolent  instincts  and  extraordinary  attainments, 
skilled  in  all  branches  of  knowledge,  very  hard  of 
hearing,  and  of  a  fatal  facility  of  speech.  The  good 
doctor  was  especially  strong  upon  questions  of  ethics 
and  propriety,  just  those  things  which,  as  it  ap- 
peared to  us,  we  did  not  need  to  know  at  all.  More- 
over he  seemed  to  think  that  the  efficacy  of  his  ad- 
monitions was  measured  by  their  length.  If  then, 
we  wanted  to  avoid  the  first  lecture  in  the  morning, 
all  we  had  to  do  was  to  start  up  trouble  in  chapel, 
for  we  knew  that  Prex  would  begin  a  homily  upon 
the  elements  of  gentlemanly  behavior  and  that  when 
he  once  commenced  he  would  fall  under  the  charm 
of  his  own  sentences  and  would  not  stop  short  of  an 
hour.  Many  were  the  times  when  moral  instruction 
that  was  little  heeded  took  the  place  of  the  studies 
set  down  in  the  curriculum. 

During  our  senior  year,  Prex  gave  us  a  series  of 
lectures  upon  the  evidences  of  natural  and  revealed 
religion,  but  his  "Ontological  argument"  had  few 


148  DOROTHY  DAY 

charms  for  us  when  put  in  competition  with  "Land- 
lord, Fill  the  Flowing  Bowl,"  or  "We  won't  go 
Home  till  Morning,"  with  which  the  class  glee  club 
simultaneously  entertained  us  without  any  suspicion 
on  the  part  of  the  worthy  president,  who  was  deaf 
to  everything  except  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

But  even  Prex  was  hardly  large  enough  game  for 
our  ambitious  spirits,  so  once  we  determined  to  play 
a  practical  joke  upon  the  whole  faculty  together  in 
chapel.  The  professors  and  president  sat  inside  a 
railed  platform  at  one  end  of  the  room,  something 
like  a  chancel,  while  the  chaplain  conducted  the  ser- 
vices from  a  small,  high  reading-desk  in  the  middle 
of  this  platform.  To  reach  it,  the  faculty  had  to 
pass  down  through  the  middle  of  the  chapel  from 
the  door  at  the  opposite  end,  while  the  students 
arranged  themselves  on  the  benches  at  each  side. 
On  one  occasion  we  provided  ourselves  with  a  large 
quantity  of  percussion  caps,  which  we  scattered  down 
the  middle  aisle  where  the  professors  passed,  and 
which  we  also  distributed  liberally  over  the  entire 
platform  and  reading-desk.  We  entered  chapel 
very  early  that  morning,  took  our  places  quietly  at 
each  side,  and  then  waited  to  see  the  sport. 

Hepworth,  the  chaplain,  came  in  first,  followed 
by  the  president  leading  the  procession  of  the  faculty. 
"Crack!  Crack!"  sounded  the  percussion  caps,  and 
"Jump!  Jump!"  this  way  and  then  that,  sprang  the 
professors.  It  was  with  flushed  face  and  looks  of 


DOROTHY  DAY  149 

uncontrollable  anger  that  Hepworth  sought  divine 
grace  on  that  memorable  morning. 

One  day  after  lectures  were  over,  Smithfield  came 
to  me  (Smithfield  is  now  on  the  bench  of  the 
Supreme  Court)  and  said:  "Dillingham,  there  is  a 
donkey  for  sale,  a  very  little  one,  in  the  stable  just 
around  the  corner.  What  can  we  do  with  him?" 
I  suggested,  "Let  us  bring  him  over  early  in  the 
morning  and  lift  him  on  the  flag-staff." 

A  syndicate  was  formed  to  raise  the  purchase 
money  and  we  procured  the  necessary  tackle.  Early 
the  following  morning  half  a  dozen  of  us  appeared 
with  our  long-eared  friend  behind  the  college. 
Pierre,  the  deputy  janitor,  was  bribed  to  open  the 
back  door,  and  then  not  to  know  what  happened. 
It  was  no  easy  task  to  lug  the  kicking  beast  up  the 
steep  stairways,  but  what  will  not  youthful  enthu- 
siasm accomplish  when  animated  by  a  lofty  pur- 
pose? A  strong  cloth  was  placed  under  his  body 
to  make  him  comfortable.  He  was  then  attached  to 
the  rope  of  the  flag-staff  and  slowly  elevated,  swing- 
ing around  the  pole,  as  he  went  up,  first  on  one  side 
and  then  on  the  other.  At  last  when  he  was  near 
the  top  we  tied  the  rope  and  quietly  descended.  It 
was  nearly  an  hour  before  prayers.  When  we  en- 
tered chapel  the  donkey  was  still  unperceived  by 
any  member  of  the  faculty.  After  prayers  were 
over,  instead  of  going  to  our  recitation  rooms  we 
assembled  on  the  campus  in  front  of  the  college 
buildings  and  Norton,  mounted  on  the  back  of 


150  DOROTHY  DAY 

Egbert,  the  biggest  man  in  the  college  proposed 
three  cheers  for  our  "Banner  in  the  Sky."  The 
cheers  were  given  with  a  will.  Suddenly  Prex  ap- 
peared. He  bustled  down  to  us,  his  silk  gown 
flapping  in  the  wind. 

"Gentlemen,  what  are  you  doing  here?  Pass  to 
your  lecture  rooms." 

Our  only  answer  was  to  point  to  the  flag-staff. 
Our  honored  president  looked  up  and  saw  the  sway- 
ing beast  with  legs  kicking  ineffectually  in  the  air. 
Just  at  that  moment  the  silence  which  his  asininity 
had  hitherto  preserved  was  broken,  and  with  his 
long  neck  stretched  forth,  "the  ass  opened  his  mouth 
and  he  spake." 

A  dozen  men  and  two  hours'  time  were  required 
to  bring  the  donkey  down  from  the  lofty  eminence 
to  which  half  the  hands  and  half  the  time  had  been 
enough  to  elevate  him.  Such  is  the  power  of  inspira- 
tion! Not  one  word  was  ever  said  to  us  about  the 
incident  by  those  in  authority. 

Were,  then,  our  escapades  the  main  features  of 
our  college  life?  I  confess  they  stand  out  more 
distinctly  in  my  remembrance  than  anything  else. 
But  a  good  many  of  us  did  a  lot  of  hard  work  and 
with  a  curious  kind  of  false  pride  we  did  it  as 
secretly  as  possible.  I  took  great  pains  to  be  seen 
on  the  Avenue  in  the  afternoon,  in  the  rooms  of 
our  secret  society  at  night,  and  afterwards  perhaps 
at  a  ball,  so  that  it  might  easily  be  known  of  all 
that  I  performed  no  labor.  Then  I  would  rise  at 


DOROTHY  DAY  151 

five  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  work  like  an  ant. 
But  I  told  no  one  of  this,  and  if  the  recitation  was 
well  done  it  was  easy  to  see  that  this  was  the  result 
of  pure  genius  and  not  at  all  due  to  toil.  We  dis- 
dained all  servile  labor! 

Once  I  had  been  selected  to  make  one  of  the 
"orations"  at  the  opera  house  on  the  occasion  of 
the  anniversary  of  our  Philologian  Society.  (If  the 
president  addresses  the  people  in  words  forever  to 
be  remembered,  it  is  merely  a  "speech,"  but  the 
flowery  platitudes  of  the  college  boy  are  embodied 
in  an  "oration.")  I  worked  at  that  "oration" 
harder  than  I  would  have  chosen  to  confess,  and  al- 
though it  was  carefully  committed  to  memory,  I 
was  determined  that  the  audience  should  see  in  it 
nothing  but  the  extemporaneous  product  of  the 
divine  fire.  What  better  device  for  this  purpose 
than  an  exordium  referring  to  the  weather?  Any- 
body could  tell  that  an  appropriate  remark  on  that 
subject  must  be  spontaneous!  Cicero,  I  had  heard, 
prepared  different  introductions  for  his  orations  and 
shifted  them  around  as  occasion  suited.  Such  an 
example  was  worthy  of  imitation.  So  I  prepared 
two — one  for  fine  weather  and  another  for  bad 
weather.  The  night  turned  out  to  be  a  fair  one. 
I  am  not  able  to  say  how  successful  were  those 
subtle  efforts  in  convincing  my  hearers  that  my  care- 
fully rounded  periods  were  due  to  the  immediate 
inspiration  of  their  presence.  But  of  one  thing  at 
least  I  am  persuaded,  and  that  is  that  a  good  many 


152  DOROTHY  DAY 

of  the  sparks  of  genius  in  really  meritorious  produc- 
tions have  been  struck,  like  my  pitiful  imitation, 
from  the  anvil  of  hard  work.  The  real  discredit 
is  not  in  the  labor,  but  in  the  false  shame  which 
refuses  to  own  it. 

What  a  coxcomb  does  a  young  man  become  when 
he  goes  to  a  college  filled  with  rich  men's  sons? 
Lucky  is  he  who  has  even  the  ambition  to  work  in 
secret,  stolen  moments  which  he  will  not  confess. 
For  myself,  I  had  a  distinct  enjoyment  as  well  as 
ambition  in  literary  work,  though  I  stifled  the  ex- 
pression of  it;  and  I  projected  in  secret  great  enter- 
prises almost  as  elaborate  as  the  "Conquest  of 
Peru." 

Among  other  things,  I  saw  the  dramatic  possi- 
bilities of  Sallust's  "Jugurtha"  and  commenced  to 
write  a  "tragedy"  of  that  name.  I  had  been  much 
impressed  with  a  recent  reading  given  by  Fannie 
Kemble  of  "Richard  III."  and  especially  with  the 
opening  soliloquy.  My  drama  was  to  begin  in  the 
same  way,  with  the  following  monologue  by 
Jugurtha : 

"Now  hath  Micipsa  to  the  royal  house 
Called  me  in  haste,  and  if  the  rank  reports 
That  grow  so  thick,  are  rooted  deep  in  fact, 
The  king  can  live  no  longer  than  the  night. 
Therefore  he  sends  for  me  who  seek  his  throne, 
(He  knows  it  well)  to  wheedle  and  cajole 
Into  some  unripe  promise  of  my  love 
For  his  poor  puny  sons — whom  still  I  hate 
And  will  destroy,  if  fortune  aids  my  plan, 
And  seize  and  hold  alone  their  father's  throne." 


DOROTHY  DAY  153 

This  started  off,  I  thought,  pretty  well,  but  a 
friend  called — there  was  a  theatre  party  that  night, 
next  week  came  the  examinations,  the  divine  af- 
flatus was  dissipated,  and  the  drama  went  no  further. 
Ah!  if  all  the  fine  projects  of  the  world  could  attain 
their  consummation,  what  a  world  it  would  be  I 
There  would  be  no  need  of  beckoning  us  on  to  any 
better  one. 


CHAPTER  V 

ALBERT  VISCONTI 

PERHAPS  the  most  potent  factor  in  my  trans- 
formation at  college  into  a  scapegrace  was  my  friend- 
ship with  Albert  Visconti.  College  friendship  often 
becomes  an  intimacy  which  is,  perhaps,  next  to  mar- 
riage, the  closest  in  the  world,  yet  these  friendships 
are  generally  determined  more  by  accident  than  by 
the  selection  of  discerning  judgment.  It  was  in  this 
way  that  my  acquaintance  with  Visconti  first  began. 
He  was  in  the  class  above  me  and  I  can  remember 
the  ringing  cheers  with  which  he  led  his  classmates 
against  us  in  the  college  rush  on  an  occasion  when 
I  had  to  send  for  a  new  suit  of  clothes  before  I 
could  go  home.  It  was  natural  enough  that  any- 
body should  be  attracted  toward  his  handsome  face. 
His  fine  forehead,  dark,  waving  hair,  and  deep, 
expressive  eyes,  were  more  fascinating  to  me  than 
any  I  had  ever  seen.  It  was  he  who,  in  a  walk 
one  afternoon,  induced  me  to  join  the  Sigma  Taus, 
and  after  I  had  been  received  into  the  fold,  he  re- 
garded me  as  his  personal  property.  He  had  taken 
this  inexperienced  Quaker  boy  under  his  wing  and 
proposed  to  train  his  protege  very  carefully  in  the 
way  he  should  not  go.  For  a  long  time  he  succeeded 
admirably.  He  initiated  me  into  the  mysteries  of 


DOROTHY  DAY  155 

the  game  of  poker.  He  took  me  with  a  small  party 
to  a  burlesque  one  night  where  we  occupied  a 
proscenium  box  and  where  the  leading  actress, 
Mademoiselle  Geraldine  sang  a  song  especially  in 
our  honor.  She  was  pretty  and  danced  charmingly, 
and  it  all  seemed  delightfully  wicked  and  pleasant. 
He  even  offered  to  introduce  me  behind  the  scenes, 
and  to  get  me  a  part  where  I  was  to  do  no  speaking, 
but  was  to  come  in  with  some  French  noblemen,  as 
a  spectator  of  one  of  Mile.  Geraldine's  perform- 
ances. He  told  me  that  he  had  several  times  taken 
the  part  of  the  Chevalier  de  Maurepin,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  hand  her  a  letter  during  a  critical  episode 
of  the  play.  But  I  was  too  timid  to  go,  though  I 
looked  upon  him  with  envy  as  one  dwelling  upon 
inaccessible  heights  of  happiness.  After  that  even- 
ing he  called  me  his  violet  and  said  I  bloomed  beau- 
tifully and  modestly  in  the  shade.  Never  was  there 
a  feudal  baron  that  received  more  devoted  homage 
from  his  faithful  vassal  than  Visconti  did  from  me. 
He  was  indeed  a  shining  object  of  homage,  for 
whether  he  was  humming  a  song  or  rehearsing  a 
speech  for  one  of  our  anniversaries,  or  devising 
some  madcap  prank  upon  the  faculty,  life  was  al- 
ways brighter  when  he  was  by.  He  did  not  stand 
high  in  his  class,  but  the  things  he  knew  and  the 
accomplishments  he  possessed  outside  of  the  curri- 
culum were  astonishing.  He  was  a  fine  musician; 
he*  seemed  almost  an  expert  in  matters  of  art  and 
general  literature;  he  had  traveled  extensively;  he 


156  DOROTHY  DAY 

talked  French  and  Italian  and  there  was  no  game  at 
which  he  was  not  proficient.  For  all  these  things 
I  admired  him  the  more  since  I  was  decidedly  back- 
ward in  accomplishments.  This  was  especially  true 
as  to  our  college  sports.  When  the  baseball  nines 
were  chosen  from  the  bystanders,  I  was  always 
about  the  seventh  man  called  out  on  our  side,  and 
had  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  there  were  perhaps 
two  fellows  who  were  even  worse  players  than  I. 
In  football  I  was  in  like  manner  about  three-fourths 
of  the  way  down  the  list,  though  I  improved  greatly 
as  time  went  by. 

Arthur,  on  the  other  hand,  was  sure  to  be  the 
first  man  chosen.  He  was  the  fastest  runner  and 
could  kick  the  ball  the  furthest,  and  he  was  the 
best  oarsman  and  the  most  skilful  boxer  in  his  class. 
He  was,  therefore,  my  model  as  to  all  the  delightful 
and  ornamental  things  of  life.  It  was  to  him  that 
I  owed  my  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  the  art 
of  self-defense,  for  he  induced  me  to  take  lessons 
in  boxing  from  his  own  instructor,  Billy  Baxter,  the 
celebrated  "champion  lightweight."  These  lessons 
went  on  swimmingly  so  long  as  the  champion  only 
touched  me  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  I  thought 
I  was  learning  to  guard  and  strike  with  great  dex- 
terity, but  when  the  hard  knocks  came  and  the  tears 
started,  I  instinctively  adopted  a  method  of  attack 
and  defense  which  is  not  generally  approved  by 
authorities  on  this  noble  art — I  shut  my  eyes  firmly 
and  rushed  with  great  fury  upon  my  opponent. 


DOROTHY  DAY  157 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  shelter  which  I  thus 
found  in  closing  the  organs  of  vision,  proved  to  be 
of  the  most  transitory  character,  and  after  being 
well  pounded  half  a  dozen  times,  I  was  compelled 
to  resort  to  other  expedients.  One  thing  I  noticed 
which  greatly  surprised  me — that  a  man's  skill  with 
his  fists  depended  much  upon  his  mood,  and  the 
absence  of  other  distractions.  Once  while  I  was 
boxing  with  Visconti  during  one  of  our  summer 
vacations,  he  had  much  the  better  me,  until  a  very 
pretty  girl,  who  was  a  guest  at  the  same  hotel  where 
we  were  staying,  came  suddenly  upon  us.  This  girl 
had  smiled  upon  Visconti  and  he  was  more  than 
eager  to  show  his  skill  in  her  presence.  So  anxious 
was  he  that  he  struck  wildly  and  took  no  care  of  his 
guard,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  laying  him  out 
in  the  presence  of  the  fair  one,  who,  soon  after, 
left  us  with  a  look  of  disappointment  on  her  face, 
whereupon  Visconti,  now  free  from  embarrassment, 
but  greatly  exasperated  at  the  showing  he  had  made 
in  her  presence,  proceeded  to  thrash  me  as  he  had 
never  done  before. 

I  often  visited  him  at  his  house  and  it  was  by  de- 
grees that  I  became  acquainted  with  his  family  his- 
tory. He  was,  as  his  name  would  indicate,  the  son 
of  a  gentleman  of  Italian  ancestry.  His  father  was 
a  man  of  broad  culture,  high  attainments,  quiet  and 
courtly  manners,  who  had  been  the  proprietor  of  a 
large  plantation  in  Louisiana,  and  whose  absolute 
dominion  over  several  hundred  slaves  had  accent- 


158  DOROTHY  DAY 

uated  his  naturally  despotic  and  cruel  nature. 
Albert  was  his  only  son  and,  although  in  a  way  the 
father  was  attached  to  the  boy  and  took  great  pains 
with  his  education,  yet  Mr.  Visconti's  notions  of 
parental  authority  were  those  that  prevailed  upon 
the  continent.  He  had  been  somewhat  wild  in  his 
youth  but  had  reformed  terribly,  so  that  he  regarded 
as  little  less  than  crimes  in  others,  and  particularly 
in  his  son,  the  things  which  had  been  daily  occur- 
rences in  his  own  early  life.  He  required  instant 
obedience  to  every  word  and  gesture;  the  boy  had 
to  rise  whenever  his  father  entered  the  room  and 
remain  standing  until  otherwise  directed.  He  was 
placed  under  the  care  of  a  tutor,  was  forbidden  to 
form  any  acquaintances  whatever  outside  the  family, 
and  was  severely  punished  for  the  slightest  short- 
comings. Thus  life  became  a  sort  of  perpetual 
imprisonment,  until  at  last  the  boy  resolved  to  break 
away  from  a  constraint  which  had  become  unendura- 
ble. One  night  he  fled  from  the  plantation,  but  the 
dogs  were  put  upon  his  track  and  when  next  day  he 
was  captured  and  brought  home,  he  was  flogged  by 
his  father  almost  as  mercilessly  as  if  he  had  been 
one  of  the  negroes  in  the  field. 

Albert's  mother,  who  belonged  to  an  old  Creole 
family,  was  a  lady  of  considerable  beauty,  graceful 
bearing,  easy  disposition  and  infinite  tact,  one  of  the 
few  human  beings  who  could  have  borne  without  an 
open  rupture  the  daily  trials  caused  by  her  hus- 
band's overbearing  disposition.  Mr.  Visconti  had 


DOROTHY  DAY  159 

come  to  New  York  for  a  few  years  to  take  charge 
of  an  enterprise  connected  with  the  refining  of  sugar, 
in  which  a  number  of  the  Louisiana  planters  had 
become  interested,  and  while  in  that  city  he  had  sent 
his  son  to  a  preparatory  school  to  fit  him  for  col- 
lege. But  the  discipline  of  his  household  was  al- 
most as  strict  as  in  Louisiana,  a  footman  accom- 
panied the  boy  each  morning  to  school  and  went  in 
the  afternoon  to  fetch  him  home,  a  proceeding  which 
subjected  Albert  to  much  ridicule  at  the  hands  of  his 
fellow  pupils.  He  was  still  forbidden  to  make 
acquaintances,  and  although  he  secretly  stole  out 
of  the  bounds  prescribed  whenever  his  father's  eyes 
were  not  fastened  upon  him,  yet  this  continual  espion- 
age finally  engenedered  a  feeling  of  deep  hatred 
toward  the  parent  who  had  mistreated  him. 

During  Albert's  freshman  year  at  college  his 
father  died,  but  there  was  little  sorrow  in  the  house- 
hold at  this  event.  The  mother  and  son,  if  they  did 
not  say  it,  felt  that  a  weight  had  been  taken  off  their 
lives.  To  Albert,  most  of  all,  the  change  was  wel- 
come. A  life  of  continual  restraint  became  trans- 
formed into  a  life  of  reckless  liberty — for  his  mother, 
easy-going  soul  that  she  was,  had  no  heart  to  refuse 
anything  to  her  only  son.  He  now  embarked  on  a 
career  wilder  than  that  of  any  of  his  companions. 
Brilliant  as  he  was,  his  company  was  sought  every- 
where, and  after  a  brief  period  of  merely  formal 
mourning,  which  scarcely  concealed  the  joy  of  his 
deliverance,  he  became  the  center  of  every  party  of 


160  DOROTHY  DAY 

pleasure.  His  graceful  figure,  dashing  presence  and 
dark,  magnetic  eyes,  made  him  an  object  of  very 
dangerous  attraction  to  women — over  whom  he  had 
a  singular  power,  a  power  of  which  he  was  well 
aware,  and  which  he  was  not  at  all  scrupulous  in 
using.  He  made  me  a  confidant  in  the  details  of  some 
of  his  escapades,  several  of  which  were  going  on  at 
the  same  time,  but  although  I  listened  to  him  with 
far  greater  tolerance  than  I  ought  to  have  done  and 
even  took  a  minor  part  in  one  or  two  of  his  more 
innocent  adventures,  by  making  myself  as  agreeable 
as  I  could  to  "the  other  girl,"  who  was  sometimes 
an  inconvenient  appendage,  yet  on  the  whole  he 
did  not  find  me  sufficiently  sympathetic  in  his  more 
serious  intrigues,  and  he  gradually  ceased  to  talk 
with  me  on  the  subject,  until  I  began  to  imagine  he 
was  through  sowing  the  worst  of  his  wild  oats. 
There  was,  however,  a  darker  side  to  his  character, 
a  trait  of  which  I  was  then  entirely  ignorant.  He 
never  gave  way  to  sudden  outbreaks  of  passion  or 
resentment,  and  had  therefore  the  reputation  of 
being  tolerant,  generous  and  kind-hearted,  although 
somewhat  careless  of  the  feelings  of  others.  This 
estimate  was  far  from  the  fact.  He  was  indeed 
not  easily  offended,  but  when  once  satisfied  that  he 
had  suffered  an  affront,  made  no  sign,  but  quietly 
stored  away  the  incident  for  use  when  an  oppor- 
tunity for  retribution  should  occur.  The  affront 
remained  aha  mente  repostum,  until  perhaps  years 
afterward,  when  everybody  else  had  forgotten  it, 


DOROTHY  DAY  161 

he  would  deliver  some  crushing  blow  to  the  man 
who  had  slighted  or  provoked  him.  This  morbid, 
calculating  instinct  was  at  such  variance  with  his 
apparent  geniality  and  thoughtlessness  in  other 
things  that  none  of  us  suspected  that  he  had  it.  We 
could  not  understand,  for  instance,  how  it  was  that 
Melville  was  defeated  for  class  orator  by  the  single 
casting  vote  of  Visconti,  a  man  of  his  own  set,  until 
some  one  remembered  that  two  years  before,  Mel- 
ville had  left  his  friend  out  of  a  certain  pic-nic  party 
on  account  of  a  trifling  scandal  that  had  become 
current  at  that  time.  When  Purdy  was  up  for  ap- 
pointment before  the  trustees  as  an  instructor,  it 
was  found  that  serious  charges  had  been  preferred 
against  him,  and  upon  inquiry  it  was  learned  that 
these  had  been  indirectly  instigated  by  Visconti.  No- 
body could  understand  the  motive  for  this  conduct 
until  it  was  remembered  that  once  in  his  freshman 
year  at  a  symposium,  Purdy  referred  to  a  rather 
discreditable  incident  connected  with  Visconti,  in  a 
remark  which  was  at  the  time  treated  by  the  latter 
as  a  mere  pleasantry.  Thus  one  circumstance  after 
another  revealed  the  dark  trait  in  his  character  to 
those  who  had  been  his  admirers  and  shattered  the 
idol  they  had  made  of  him,  so  that  when  he  grad- 
uated there  were  very  few  except  myself  who  still 
wholly  believed  in  him  and  trusted  him.  As  I  see 
it  now,  it  was  astonishing  how  many  opportunities 
he  found  to  get  even  with  those  who  had  offended 
him,  and  equally  astonishing  how,  in  the  mere  get- 


1 62  DOROTHY  DAY 

ting  even,  he  had  done  himself  a  greater  injury  than 
any  he  had  ever  suffered  from  others.  But  at  that 
time,  in  spite  of  the  warnings  of  my  associates,  I 
never  doubted  him.  He  had  a  strong  touch  of  the 
dramatic  in  his  character.  When  he  told  us  a  story 
it  was  sure  to  contain  some  sudden  and  startling 
denouement  or  to  be  filled  with  some  kind  of  poetic 
nemesis.  I  think  this  tendency  of  his  mind  was 
closely  connected  with  his  hunger  for  revenge  and 
that  both,  together  with  his  romantic  and  senti- 
mental nature,  were  part  of  his  inheritance  from  the 
father  who  had  also  educated  him,  through  a  long 
course  of  tyranny,  into  the  skilful  suppression  and 
concealment  of  his  deepest  purposes.  But  although 
the  most  serious  blemish  in  his  character  did  not  be- 
come apparent  to  any  of  us  until  the  latter  part  of 
his  college  course,  and  to  some  of  us  not  until  after 
he  had  graduated,  yet  there  was  another  shortcom- 
ing which  we  all  criticized,  though  we  were  ourselves 
in  less  degree  tarred  with  the  same  stick  and  there- 
fore could  not  consider  it  a  capital  offense.  That 
was  the  outrageous  manner  in  which  he  led  his  fond 
mother  by  the  nose,  and  beguiled  her  into  giving  him 
large  allowances  and  making  considerable  expendi- 
tures on  his  behalf.  Every  summer  he  had  to  go 
abroad.  There  were  philological  researches,  he  told 
her,  in  which  he  was  deeply  interested,  and  in  which 
it  was  necessary  for  him  to  consult  foreign  libraries 
and  to  confer  with  certain  specialists,  though  when 
he  had  gone  he  quite  forgot  these  studies,  but  led 


DOROTHY  DAY  163 

instead  a  butterfly  life  at  the  French  capital,  and 
when  he  had  spent  his  all  in  pleasure  or  at  the  gam- 
ing table,  he  would  telegraph  home  some  ingenious 
reasons  (which  were  always  accepted)  for  replenish- 
ing his  exhausted  treasury.  These  demands  upon 
his  mother's  resources  were  far  more  than  she  could 
afford,  and  it  was  for  this  reason  that  we,  who  sinned 
ourselves  in  the  same  way,  at  last  found  fault  with 
him. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  SUMMER  IN   EUROPE 

AT  the  end  of  my  junior  year  (Albert  had  just 
graduated),  he  asked  me  to  go  with  him  on  his 
usual  summer  trip  abroad.  My  parents  concented, 
and  we  started  together  on  the  Urania,  at  that  time 
one  of  the  most  popular  steamers  on  the  ocean.  At 
the  end  of  the  dining  table  where  Albert  and  I  sat, 
was  a  fine  looking  man  who  was  traveling  with  his 
wife  and  two  daughters.  The  eldest  of  these,  who 
sat  next  to  my  friend,  was  a  grave,  dark-eyed,  beau- 
tiful girl,  a  little  shy,  a  little  my  senior  in  age,  who 
gave  me  from  the  moment  I  saw  her,  the  impression 
of  that  high  breeding  in  which  a  few  of  our  Ameri- 
can women  rival  and  perhaps  excel  even  those  of 
noble  birth  and  extensive  accomplishments  abroad. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  next  to  Mr.  Day 
(for  this,  as  I  soon  found,  was  the  name  of  the 
gentleman),  was  his  wife,  a  tall,  quiet  lady,  whose 
few  locks  of  gray  intermingled  with  her  dark  brown 
hair  seemed  to  give  added  dignity  and  charm  to  a  face 
which  was  distinguished  rather  than  beautiful.  At 
her  side,  nearly  opposite  me,  was  the  younger  daugh- 
ter, with  mischievous  blue  eyes,  merry  red  lips  and 
ripples  of  golden  hair  that  seemed  to  have  a  laughter 
in  them  like  the  waves.  It  was  a  face  which  fairly 


DOROTHY  DAY  165 

startled  me  with  its  dazzling  brilliancy.  I  was  espe- 
cially anxious  not  to  give  sign  of  weakness  in  such  a 
presence,  and  deep  was  my  humiliation  when,  just 
before  dessert,  after  all  hope  was  over  and  I  rose 
to  stagger  toward  the  door,  I  saw  her  eyes  upon 
me  with  an  expression  which  showed  perhaps  a  little 
pity,  but  far  more  amusement.  Dorothy  and  her 
father  were  the  only  ones  who  remained  with  Albert 
at  our  table  until  the  end  of  the  meal. 

Luckily  my  seasickness  was  of  short  duration  and 
the  charm  of  the  new  life  with  its  wealth  of  sunshine 
and  sparkling  light  reflected  from  the  crests  of  every 
wave,  began  to  grow  upon  me.  We  soon  came  to 
know  the  Days  quite  well,  and  Dorothy  and  I  be- 
came great  friends.  She  had  always  a  smile  for  me 
and  seemed  very  cordial,  but  I  soon  found  that  the 
pleasure  she  appeared  to  take  in  my  companionship 
was  mainly  for  the  purpose  of  tormenting  me. 
There  was  much  instruction  I  acquired  in  that  first 
voyage,  quite  as  much  as  a  freshman  at  college 
ever  receives  from  a  sophomore,  and  much  of  it 
came  from  Dorothy  herself,  for  she  had  been 
abroad  before  and  although  young  in  years,  was 
much  my  senior  in  nautical  information.  One  day 
I  thought  I  would  like  to  climb  the  mast,  and 
Dorothy  being  by,  encouraged  me,  and  said  she 
only  wished  she  could  go  too,  that  the  ship  and  the 
passengers  and  the  sea  itself  must  look  beautiful 
from  so  fine  a  point  of  observation.  So  I  scrambled 
up  the  ropes  as  far  as  I  could.  She  looked  at  me 


1 66  DOROTHY  DAY 

with  interest  and  I  enjoyed  what  secerned  to  be 
her  admiration.  The  sight  was  indeed  a  curious 
one  from  the  masthead  as  it  swung  to  and  fro.  1 
saw  the  passengers  far  below  me  walking  like 
pigmies  up  and  down  the  deck.  The  steamer  was 
far  longer  and  narrower  than  I  had  supposed,  and 
seemed  to  cut  the  water  like  a  knife.  But  I  noticed 
that  Dorothy  had  gone  forward  to  the  forecastle 
and  had  spoken  to  one  of  the  seamen,  and  now  that 
she  was  returning  and  looking  up  at  me  in  great  de- 
light, what  was  my  surprise  to  see  half  a  dozen 
sailors  climbing  swiftly  up  the  ropes  toward  me. 
At  first  I  thought  they  had  been  directed  to  follow 
me  by  the  officer  on  duty  through  an  unnecessary 
regard  for  my  safety.  It  was  no  doubt  a  well  meant, 
though  very  mistaken  act  of  kindness,  but  I  was  soon 
surprised  to  see  that  each  one  had  brought  with 
him  two  or  three  strong  cords,  and  after  they 
reached  me,  still  greater  was  my  astonishment,  when 
they  began  to  tie  me  fast.  One  of  them  got  hold 
of  each  wrist  and  one  of  each  ankle.  Spreading 
my  limbs  as  far  apart  as  possible  they  bound  me 
to  the  ropes  and  descended  to  the  deck  leaving  me 
there  alone,  trussed  up  like  a  chicken  to  enjoy  the 
scenery  at  my  leisure,  intimating  as  they  went  the 
amount  of  ransom  necessary  for  my  liberation. 

By  this  time  I  was  full  of  fury  and  ready  to  die 
rather  than  capitulate.  Luckily  for  me,  one  of  the 
sailors  had  done  his  work  badly,  my  right  wrist  was 
soon  free,  whereupon  I  disengaged  the  other  and 


DOROTHY  DAY  167 

then  my  feet.  As  soon  as  they  saw  what  I  was  doing 
they  came  after  me  again,  but  my  rage  lent  agility  to 
my  muscles.  I  cared  little  what  became  of  me,  but 
they  should  not  get  me.  I  escaped  them,  got  on 
the  inside  of  the  ropes  and  took  a  long  leap  for 
the  deck,  amid  the  applause  of  the  passengers,  who 
had  gathered  around  to  see  the  outcome  of  my  ad- 
venture. Dorothy  was  there,  too,  to  compliment 
me  on  my  skill  in  jumping.  At  first  I  was  so  indig- 
nant I  would  have  nothing  to  say  to  her,  for  of 
course,  I  knew  that  the  little  minx  had  been  at  the 
bottom  of  all  my  discomfiture.  But  where  is  the 
youth  that  can  long  resist  such  eyes  when  they  smile 
upon  him?  After  a  day  or  two  of  awkward  surli- 
ness, I  made  up  with  her  and  was  soon  bound  again 
in  the  toils.  Dorothy  did  not  in  the  least  mind  it 
if  she  was  herself  the  victim  of  a  practical  joke. 
On  one  occasion,  when  we  went  down  together  to 
the  stokers'  room  to  see  the  big,  grimy  fellows 
shovel  the  coal  into  the  furnaces,  some  one  suddenly 
appeared  just  outside  the  door  and  closed  it,  lock- 
ing us  securely  in.  The  heat  was  stifling,  but 
Dorothy  threw  her  cloak  upon  a  pile  of  coal  in  the 
corner  and  quietly  sat  down  prepared  to  hold  out 
indefinitely.  This  time  it  was  T  who  offered  to 
capitulate,  but  she  would  not  let  me,  so  there  we 
stayed  until  the  watch  sounded  and  the  new  men 
came  to  relieve  those  who  were  at  work.  These 
seamen's  pranks,  and  the  custom  of  imposing  fines 
upon  unwary  landsmen  who  venture  into  parts  of 


1 68  DOROTHY  DAY 

the  ship  where  they  have  no  business  to  go,   are 
now  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Albert  and  Ethel,  the  elder  sister,  were  much  to- 
gether. They  were  fond  of  going  to  the  forecastle 
and  leaning  over  the  side  of  the  vessel  to  watch  the 
sharp  prow  cleaving  the  water  and  see  the  phos- 
phorescent glow  around  the  ship  at  night.  If 
Dorothy  cared  for  such  things,  for  the  great  waves 
and  the  sky  and  the  long,  bright  pathway  of  the 
moon  upon  the  ocean,  she  certainly  never  let  me 
find  it  out;  it  was  the  doings  of  the  officers  and  crew 
and  passengers  that  appeared  to  furnish  her  with 
the  greatest  delight,  the  authoritative  way  in  which 
Captain  Hawkins  read  the  prayers  on  Sunday,  as 
though  God  were  "aloft"  and  it  would  not  be  good 
for  Him  if  He  didn't  do  what  He  was  told  to ;  the 
agony  of  the  man  from  Boston  who  roared  the 
responses  with  both  eyes  shut  and  with  an  expres- 
sion indicative  of  colic;  the  grim  resolution  of  the 
old  Scotchman  who  walked  backward  and  forward, 
backward  and  forward  on  the  deck  the  livelong  day 
like  a  wild  beast  in  a  cage;  the  convincing  power 
of  the  traveler  returning  from  California  who  pro- 
duced a  long  cord  in  proof  of  the  immense  cir- 
cumference of  the  big  trees  in  Calaveras  which  he 
had  measured;  the  imprudence  of  the  lady  from 
Philadelphia  who  wanted  to  see  a  storm  and  when  it 
came  asked  in  despair:  "Why  do  people  ever  go 
to  sea?"  the  danger  of  explosion  to  the  red-faced 
Englishman  who  became  suffocated  with  his  own 


DOROTHY  DAY  169 

jokes  before  he  could  reach  the  point  in  telling  them, 
and  who  wanted  to  be  Julius  Caesar  in  charades  the 
last  evening  on  board,  but  became  incapacitated 
through  laughter  at  the  idea. 

When  we  disembarked  at  Queenstown,  our  plans 
and  the  Days'  took  us  at  first  to  the  same  places, 
and  soon  it  seemed  so  natural  to  be  together,  that 
as  they  appeared  willing  to  have  us,  we  traveled 
in  their  company  most  of  the  summer.  To  Ethel's 
dreamy  nature  the  beauties  of  Killarney,  the  bright 
green  of  the  mountain  sides,  the  ivied  ruins,  the 
long  echoes  that  answered  the  high  notes  as  we 
rowed  across  the  lakes  afforded  infinite  delight,  and 
Albert,  whose  disposition  was  romantic  and  dra- 
matic to  the  last  degree,  found  in  her  a  sympathetic 
spirit  which  responded  spontaneously  to  his  enthu- 
siasms. He  had  plain  sailing;  but  as  for  me,  I 
had  a  harder  time  with  Dorothy,  who  never  let  me 
see  that  she  admired  the  scenery,  the  ruins  and  the 
sunsets,  but  who  was  forever  laughing  at  the  ab- 
surdity of  a  country  where  everybody  you  met  was 
an  Irishman,  where  almost  every  horse  was  a  don- 
key, where  the  women  rode  to  market  sitting  on 
the  calf  or  pig,  where  the  cats  were  so  human,  the 
children  so  uncanny  that  you  couldn't  quite  tell  at 
night  whether  the  cry  came  from  a  cat  or  a  baby, 
and  where  every  large  and  commodious  building  was 
a  Bedlam !  One  day,  when  our  coach  was  passing 
a  particularly  imposing  structure,  she  offered  to 
wager  that  it  was  a  madhouse.  Thinking  we  had 


170  DOROTHY  DAY 

seen  so  many  there  was  no  likelihood  of  more,  I 
denied  it,  we  referred  the  matter  to  the  coachman, 
and  when  I  asked :  "Is  that  large  building  an  insane 
asylum?"  he  answered:  "No,  sir!  it  is  not,  sir." 
Here  my  face  glowed  with  momentary  triumph. 
"It  is  a  lunatic  asylum,  sir!"  And  Dorothy's  voice 
rang  clearest  in  laughter  at  my  discomfiture.  A 
trait  that  greatly  amused  her  was  the  Hibernian's 
unwillingness  to  admit  that  there  was  anything  he 
did  not  know.  Once  as  we  stopped  close  to  a  curi- 
ous ruined  tower,  Dorothy  asked  me  to  inquire  of 
a  peasant  who  stood  near  what  it  might  be.  Pat 
took  off  his  hat,  bowed,  looked  bewildered,  scratched 
his  head,  and  solemnly  replied:  "Well,  sir,  you've 
studied  history,  sir,  and  I've  studied  history,  but 
we  can't  account  for  that,  sir!"  and  the  little  bag- 
gage pursed  her  lips  in  mock  sympathy  at  our  mutual 
but  ineffectual  researches.  We  passed  a  mountain 
one  day  where,  as  the  coachman  told  us,  there  were 
365  little  lakes,  one  for  each  day  of  the  year. 
Ethel  was  much  interested  in  the  coincidence,  but 
Dorothy  gravely  asked  him  whether  a  new  lake 
came  every  leap-year.  When  we  passed  over  into 
England  and  visited  some  of  the  historical  monu- 
ments there,  she  was  even  more  irreverent.  What 
appeared  to  attract  her  most  in  the  cathedrals  were 
the  penitential  seats  from  which  a  monk  was  pro- 
jected headlong  if  he  sought  to  comfort  himself 
with  a  nap  during  the  services,  the  grotesque  carv- 
ings on  the  choir  stalls  where  the  big  pig  plays  the 


DOROTHY  DAY  171 

bagpipe  and  the  little  pigs  dance,  where  the  whale 
swallows  Jonah  and  then  casts  him  forth  on  dry 
land. 

When  we  reached  Paris  she  found  infinite  oppor* 
tunities  for  diversion  in  the  attempts  of  some  of 
our  fellow  Americans  to  make  themselves  under- 
stood in  a  language  which  no  one  could  comprehend. 
There  was  Mr.  Jones,  for  example,  whose  practice 
was  to  repeat  all  he  said  in  English  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  it  being  a  well-known  principle  that  no 
language  is  unintelligible  if  you  will  only  speak  it 
loud  enough.  There  was  Mrs.  Grubbs  on  the  floor 
just  below  us,  whom  Dorothy  detected  in  an  effort 
to  explain  to  the  chambermaid  by  scrubbing  on  an 
imaginary  washboard,  that  she  had  some  clothes  to 
be  laundered;  there  was  Grubbs  gesticulating  to  a 
cabman  and  wildly  revolving  his  arms  in  the  air, 
as  indication  that  he  wanted  to  go  to  the  railway 
station,  whereupon  cabby  with  a  smile  of  intelli- 
gence drove  him  to  a  shop  where  they  sold  veloci- 
pedes. 

At  a  German  swimming-school,  where  we  saw  a 
boy  sprawling  on  the  water  at  the  end  of  what 
seemed  a  huge  fish-line  attached  to  a  pole  held  by 
his  instructor,  and  learning  the  motions  of  the  swim- 
mer in  regular  rhythm — eins-zwei-drei,  eins-zwei- 
dre'i — she  suggested  the  advantages  of  having  to 
eat  and  drink  in  the  same  methodical  manner.  In 
Switzerland  I  thought,  with  despair,  that  she  cared 
less  for  the  superb  scenery  than  for  the  notices 


172  DOROTHY  DAY 

posted  upon  the  bedroom  doors  at  Rigi  Kulm: 
"Guests  are  forbidden  to  take  the  bed-clothes  with 
them  when  they  go  to  see  the  sunrise." 

So  it  was  everywhere.  There  was  no  circum- 
stance that  did  not  furnish  food  for  her  merry 
raillery.  On  one  occasion  when  I  reproved  her 
because  she  would  take  nothing  seriously,  she  lifted 
from  a  shelf  of  the  museum  we  were  visiting,  a 
medieval  bridle  for  a  scold,  and  gravely  handed  it 
to  me,  asking  if  it  would  not  fit. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   DAYS 

DOROTHY  DAY  was  the  daughter  of  wealthy 
parents,  but  they  were  parents  who  held  their  wealth 
as  by  no  means  the  greatest  of  their  possessions. 
She  had  the  advantage  of  being  the  child  in  a  house- 
hold where  the  master  and  mistress  were  now  be- 
ginning to  grow  old  together  in  the  undiminished 
warmth  of  an  early  attachment.  Such  households 
may  be  rare,  but  they  exist,  and  happy  is  the  child 
who  is  reared  under  their  influence. 

The  descendant  of  an  old  New  York  family, 
possessed  of  a  liberal  education  to  which  he  had 
added  considerable  stores  from  travel,  from  general 
reading  and  from  a  broad  knowledge  of  the  world, 
Mr.  Day  had  the  tastes  and  instincts  which  come 
from  cultured  ancestry  and  surroundings.  His 
library  was  extensive  and  well  chosen,  and  his  col- 
lection of  pictures  and  works  of  art  was  one  of  the 
best  to  be  found  anywhere,  for  it  represented,  not 
simply  a  vast  outlay  of  money  spent  for  the  works 
of  popular  masters,  but  the  discriminating  eye  and 
clear  judgment  of  its  owner.  There  had  been  much 
rummaging  in  obscure  shops,  and  pieces  of  unsus- 
pected beauty  had  been  brought  forth  from  the  lum- 
ber that  surrounded  them.  The  collection  was  not 


174  DOROTHY  DAY 

so  costly  as  many  another,  but  it  was  representative 
of  different  schools  and  periods.  So,  too,  the  furni- 
ture of  the  house  expressed  the  individuality  of  its 
occupants.  Each  piece  had  a  history.  There  was 
the  glassware  upon  the  table,  which  flickered  with 
fitful  suggestions  of  that  great  scamp  Cellini,  who 
had  designed  the  model;  there  was  the  rug  in  front 
of  the  big  fire  place  which  recalled  the  shop  at 
Damascus  where  it  was  purchased;  and  another  in 
the  hall  where  the  face  of  "Far  Away  Moses" 
seemed  to  peer  out  through  the  intricate  geometrical 
figures  and  renew  the  Hebraic  blandishments  which 
had  relaxed  the  purse-strings  of  the  American 
traveler;  that  Virgin  in  the  corner  with  the  soft  bit 
of  color  behind  her,  recalled  the  old  junkshop 
where  it  had  been  stored  with  worthless  lumber,  and 
also  the  joy  which  had  attended  the  verdict  of  the 
experts  that  it  was  the  work  of  a  historic  school; 
those  rubicund  carousers  brought  to  remembrance 
the  old  castle  in  Savoy  which  had  been  despoiled  of 
its  treasures  by  the  extravagance  of  a  profligate  heir; 
and  the  strange  aggregation  of  prophets,  apostles, 
monks,  and  crusaders  from  many  lands  and  ages, 
wdie  apart,  which  were  thrown  together  upon  the 
centerpiece  of  that  old  triptych,  renewed  the  diffi- 
culties of  identifying  the  fifteenth  century  cavalier 
who  was  present  when  the  mantle  of  Elijah  fell  upon 
Elisha,  as  the  older  prophet  mounted  to  heaven  upon 
his  chariot  of  fire,  while  a  fat  little  angel  of  the  Lord 


DOROTHY  DAY  175 

whispered  confidentially  to  Moses  in  the  corner. 
Ah!  the  catholic  chronology  of  medieval  artl 

Mr.  Day  possessed  that  fortunate  disposition 
which  easily  shakes  off  care  and  never  takes  trouble 
upon  interest,  and  he  adopted  in  practical  life  the 
classification  we  all  believe  but  seldom  follow,  that 
there  are  only  two  kinds  of  things  which  cause  worry 
and  distress — things  you  can  help  and  things  you 
cannot,  a  classification  which  gives  in  either  case  a 
better  alternative  than  anxiety.  He  looked  at  life 
upon  its  bright  side,  and  from  him  undoubtedly 
came  that  sunny  disposition  which  was  one  of  Doro- 
thy's prominent  characteristics. 

His  wife  and  daughters  esteemed  him  naturally 
at  his  full  value,  indeed,  at  a  good  deal  more  than 
his  full  value.  For  instance,  when  in  early  childhood 
his  little  girls,  Ethel  and  Dorothy,  were  talking  of 
the  story  of  Jonah,  and  wondering  how  it  could  all 
be,  Ethel  suggested  that  the  fish  were  a  great  deal 
larger  in  those  days  and  that  the  interior  arrange- 
ments were  better  adapted  to  human  habitation, 
while  Dorothy  interrupted  the  explanation  with 
"Papa  doesn't  believe  the  story  at  all,  and  he  knows 
more  than  anybody  in  the  world." 

Although  mamma  would  not  have  used  quite  that 
language,  yet  the  oracular  power  and  infallibility 
with  which  papa's  judgments  were  treated  in  the 
home  circle  had  much  the  same  meaning. 

Indeed,  papa  was  greatly  spoiled  at  his  own  fire- 
side, and  yet  in  that  household  he  was  by  no  means 


176  DOROTHY  DAY 

the  most  important  person.  It  was  the  mother  to- 
ward whom  all  turned  first  for  counsel,  assistance, 
inspiration,  love.  No  woman  was  ever  more  un- 
conscious of  herself.  She  had  a  quiet,  mature  dig- 
nity which  she  could  no  more  put  on  or  take  off  at 
her  own  will  than  if  it  were  part  of  her  own  body. 
She  was  conscientious  almost  to  a  fault,  a  little  aris- 
tocratic in  her  nature — no  false  vanity  of  rank  or 
wealth,  but  a  pride  which  disdained  all  contact  with 
what  was  unworthy.  She  was  ambitious  for  her  hus- 
band and  her  children,  and  earnestly  desired  that 
they  should  attain  all  good  things,  but  only  by  such 
means  as  were  pure  and  honorable.  As  for  herself, 
she  would  shrink  from  no  sacrifice  which  would 
promote  their  welfare.  She  was  naturally  quick  of 
temper,  but  her  indignation  passed  in  a  moment  like 
a  puff  of  smoke,  and  her  regret  was  followed  by 
added  tenderness. 

Her  husband  held  the  first  place  in  her  heart.  It 
would  be  hard  to  say  which  of  her  children  was 
her  favorite.  She  would  not  confess  even  to  herself 
that  she  had  any  preference.  Her  two  daughters 
were  as  different  as  possible  from  each  other,  not  only 
in  features,  but  in  temperament.  In  the  years  that 
have  followed  the  acquaintance  begun  on  the  Urania, 
I  have  come  to  know  from  many  family  conversa- 
tions, the  incidents  connected  with  the  childhood 
of  these  two  sisters — so  intimately,  that  it  often 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  been  their  companion  from 
infancy. 


DOROTHY  DAY  177 

Ethel  had  been  a  dreamy  child  and  her  little 
world  was  peopled  with  creatures  of  the  imagina- 
tion. Every  grove  had  its  dryads  and  every  stream 
its  water  nymphs,  and  every  chamber  in  the  big  house, 
its  own  peculiar  household  divinities.  But  these  were 
not  at  all  like  the  figures  of  classic  fable.  The  faces 
resembled  those  she  knew  and  loved,  and  she  had 
names  for  all  of  them  and  considered  them  "her 
friends."  For  a  long  time  she  told  no  one  of  this 
wonderful  fairy  world  in  which  she  lived,  for  she 
felt  that  the  fancy  must  be  a  very  foolish  one,  and 
even  mamma  would  surely  laugh  at  her  if  she  knew 
it.  But  once,  when  her  mother  was  reading  to  her 
of  the  fancies  of  other  children,  she  said  rather 
sheepishly:  "Did  you  know,  mamma,  I  had  some 
friends,  too?"  And  strange  to  say,  mamma  did 
not  laugh  at  all,  but  gravely  answered:  "Oh,  yes; 
I  knew  it."  "Why,  how  did  you  know  that?" 

"Because  when  I  was  a  little  girl  I  had  my 
friends." 

"Did  you,  mamma?  Then  it  isn't  queer  of  me 
to  have  them?" 

And  after  that  her  mother  became  her  confidant 
and  was  introduced  to  this  new  circle  of  acquaint- 
ances and  learned  how  they  looked,  and  what  they 
said  and  did.  They  were  very  reliable,  these  invisi- 
ble friends,  and  when  Ethel  was  called  away  from 
home  she  always  confided  her  dolls  and  child's  treas- 
ures to  their  keeping. 

It  always  pained  her  to  see  any  one  in  the  chair 


178  DOROTHY  DAY 

where  her  fancy  had  already  placed  an  occupant, 
and  once  she  asked  even  mamma  not  to  sit  at  the 
foot  of  the  brass  bedstead  where  "the  children" 
were  lying.  And  later  she  took  into  her  confidence 
a  friend  who  was  visiting  the  house,  and  when  the 
lady  said:  "I  would  like  to  see  them,"  she  shyly 
opened  the  door  to  her  little  bedroom,  pointed  to 
the  empty  chairs,  and  looked  bashfully  up,  but  said 
nothing. 

So  delicate  were  these  confidences  that  a  smile 
of  incredulity  would  have  shattered  them.  Heaven 
was  a  real  place  to  her  as  much  as  grandmamma's 
or  the  old  farm  in  the  country  at  Aunt  Mary's,  and 
once  when  her  mamma  was  putting  away  her  sum- 
mer clothing,  she  asked  that  her  best  white  dress 
might  be  carefully  ironed  so  it  would  be  ready  in 
case  she  should  be  called  to  heaven  "right  away." 
She  had  big  paper  wings  cut  out  ready  to  be  fitted 
at  a  moment's  notice,  and  was  quite  as  well  pre- 
pared for  heaven  as  an  Adventist  with  his  resur- 
rection robes;  yes,  better  prepared,  I  think,  in  many 
ways,  for  it  ever  there  was  a  child  who  tried  to  do 
her  duty,  it  was  she.  And  she  wanted  others  to  do 
their  duty,  too — their  duty,  be  it  said,  as  she  under- 
stood it,  for  that  is  the  way  with  all  good  women, 
with  little  women  as  well  as  big  ones.  And,  there- 
fore, at  their  summer  home  among  the  hills  when 
Bockerty,  the  rooster,  would  not  lay  eggs,  but  wan- 
dered away  more  than  he  ought,  she  caught  him  and 
tied  him  to  the  big  box  with  straw  at  the  bottom, 


DOROTHY  DAY  179 

where  the  porcelain  egg  had  long  ineffectually  in- 
vited him  to  the  performance  of  domestic  duties. 

In  her  studies,  her  dreamy  imagination  carried 
her  along  a  line  of  literature  far  beyond  her  years. 
She  was  fond  of  the  lyrics  of  Shakespeare,  of  Ariel's 
song  and  "Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies,"  songs 
that  have  indeed  in  them  a  melody  of  verse  that 
appeals  naturally  to  a  child. 

There  was  about  her  an  odd  mixture  of  the  child 
and  the  grown-up  woman,  and  a  little  later  she  would 
turn  very  naturally  from  reading  "Comus"  or  "Para- 
dise Lost"  to  playing  with  paper  dolls  in  company 
with  other  children  of  her  own  age. 

The  children  had  many  pets.  For  a  short  time 
they  had  a  spotted  coach-dog  they  called  Mustard, 
because  he  was  so  attractive  and  drew  all  things 
to  him  like  a  mustard-plaster.  Dorothy  gave  him 
the  name,  for  she  knew  most  about  the  mustard, 
having  ineffaceable  recollections  of  it  from  the  time 
when  the  doctor  put  it  on  to  cure  a  dreadful  cough, 
after  they  had  stayed  out  in  the  wet  and  cold  con- 
ducting the  funeral  services  of  a  dead  blackbird. 

Now  Mustard  was  a  stalwart,  enthusiastic  puppy. 
Ethel  liked  him  all  the  more  "because  he  was  young, 
and  they  could  train  him."  But  education  is  often 
a  harder  task  than  we  fancy,  and  after  a  month  or 
two  in  which  Mustard  had  pulled  their  dresses  from 
the  clothesline,  had  torn  Dorothy's  new  pink  sash, 
had  chewed  up  the  leg  of  Ethel's  best  doll,  had 
upset  the  glasses  on  the  sideboard,  and  killed  two 


i8o  DOROTHY  DAY 

little  chickens  and  a  duck,  Dorothy  came  one  day 
with  a  flushed  face  to  her  father,  and  asked: 
"Please,  papa,  can't  we  lose  Mustard?"  So  Mus- 
tard was  appropriately  lost,  though  Ethel  some  time 
afterwards  maintained  there  was  a  dog  very  much 
like  him,  only  larger,  at  Schneider's  livery  stable. 

They  had  other  pets  left  to  console  them.  There 
was  Thora,  the  Icelandic  pony,  a  wilful  little  beast, 
whose  ancestors  had  so  long  eaten  fish  during  the 
winters,  when  other  fodder  was  not  obtainable,  that 
she  was  quite  carnivorous.  Once  she  ate  a  chicken 
— that  is,  the  chicken  disappeared  and  its  feathers 
were  seen  about  the  pony's  mouth  and  its  feet  were 
left  in  the  manger — evidence  strong  enough  to  send 
a  poor  wretch  to  Tyburn. 

Pony  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  horses,  who 
used  to  follow  her  everywhere  around  the  pasture 
nibbling  at  her  neck  and  displaying  every  sign  of 
equine  affection.  Indeed,  the  only  way  to  catch 
Matilda  (who  could  never  be  trapped  by  delusive 
oats  or  ears  of  corn)  was  to  catch  the  pony  first 
and  lead  her  back  to  the  stable,  when  Matilda  would 
peacefully  follow,  which  showed  that  she  considered 
the  claims  of  friendship  as  stronger  than  the  attrac- 
tions of  a  dinner.  The  pony  was  a  great  friend  of 
the  children,  and  was  a  very  amiable  little  beast  so 
long  as  she  was  permitted  to  have  her  own  way  in 
everything.  But  when  Dorothy  mounted  her,  sit- 
ting astride  her  fat  little  back,  one  could  never  be 
quite  sure  in  what  direction  Thora  was  going  or  at 


DOROTHY  DAY  181 

what  time  she  would  return,  and  there  was  a  good 
chance  (if  she  found  a  convenient  spot  to  roll)  that 
the  child  would  be  dumped  off  till  pony  had  taken 
her  pleasure,  when  she  would  again  receive  her 
burden  and  jog  along  in  her  own  way  as  before. 
Pony  had  a  number  of  tricks.  She  could  tell  you 
by  pawing  the  ground  just  how  old  she  was,  but 
true  to  the  instincts  of  her  sex,  there  was  a  proper 
limit  of  age  which  she  declined  to  overpass  and  the 
children  began  to  doubt  her  veracity  when  they 
found  that  she  remained  constantly  five  years  old 
down  to  the  day  of  her  death. 

When  the  governess  began  to  teach  the  little 
girls  the  history  of  their  own  country  their  busy 
minds  were  full  of  the  great  names  that  we  all 
revere.  What  then  could  be  more  appropriate  than 
to  name  the  numerous  cats  upon  the  place  after  the 
fathers  of  the  Republic? 

The  biggest  one,  of  course,  was  George  Wash- 
ington, who  walked  in  a  very  stately  manner,  though 
he  soon  displayed  qualities  not  at  all  consistent  with 
the  honor  and  truthfulness  of  the  great  original. 
Benjamin  Franklin  was  very  properly  the  most  in- 
telligent. His  philosophic  life  was  prolonged  to  a 
good  old  age,  while  Thomas  Jefferson,  infected  no 
doubt  with  too  much  of  the  spirit  of  separatism  and 
independence,  suddenly  disappeared  and  was  never 
heard  of  more. 

Ethel  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  small  mouse, 
who  used  to  come  out  from  under  the  grate  in  the 


1 82  DOROTHY  DAY 

nursery  and  listen  to  her  while  she  sang  to  her  doll, 
and  then  ran  back  again  when  she  ceased.  Indeed, 
all  living  things  that  came  near  her  seemed  to  love 
her,  she  was  so  gentle  and  quiet  with  them.  But  the 
sudden  appearance  of  Dorothy  was  sure  to  send 
them  away. 

When  grandpa  came  to  visit  them,  the  children 
were  quite  sure  of  some  gift,  a  rocking-horse,  per- 
haps, or  a  drum,  a  doll  or  bugle,  for  to  grandpa,  his 
little  granddaughters  seemed  to  belong  indifferently 
to  both  sexes.  And  Dorothy  was  quite  as  fond  of 
the  little  gun  as  of  the  china  tea  set. 

Ethel's  dreamy  imagination  and  quick  conscience 
were  always  awake  to  every  call  of  sacrifice  and 
duty,  while  Dorothy  was  looking  out  sharply  for 
her  own  comfort  and  had  very  practical  and  very 
material  views  of  life.  Indeed,  the  little  scamp 
slyly  got  credit  for  being  better  than  she  was,  for 
whenever  there  were  apples  or  cakes  or  candy  to  be 
divided,  she  always  let  Ethel  make  the  division, 
knowing  full  well  that  from  her  sister's  goodness 
she  would  be  sure  to  get  the  bigger  half. 

When  she  was  very  little  she  was  in  mischief 
most  of  the  time.  She  made  strange  figures  with 
a  black  pencil  on  the  white  walls  of  the  dining-room 
and  when  mamma  came  suddenly  upon  her  playing 
with  her  sister  and  some  other  companions,  and 
severely  asked:  "What  is  this?"  she  spoke  up  at 
once  and  solemnly  answered:  "It  is  a  duck,"  there- 
by revealing  the  author  of  the  transgression,  as 


DOROTHY  DAY  183 

indeed  she  always  did  when  the  fault  lay  at  her 
door.  For  though  she  sometimes  fell  into  disgrace 
and  was  often  chided  for  her  faults,  yet  there  was 
one  thing  she  would  not  do,  she  would  not  tell  a 
lie. 

Perhaps  the  rogue  found  her  interest  even  in 
this,  for  it  was  a  rule  of  her  parents  not  to  punish 
a  child  who  had  told  the  truth,  no  matter  how 
grave  the  offense,  so  as  not  to  make  her  afraid  to 
tell  the  truth  another  time.  No  doubt  Dorothy 
discovered  this  easy  way  getting  off,  for  she  owned 
her  little  acts  of  transgression  with  engaging  frank- 
ness. 

Her  theology  was  of  a  peculiar  kind.  Her  God 
was  a  solid,  anthropomorphic  god,  and  when  the 
lightning  flashed  and  revealed  the  outlines  of  the 
black  clouds  through  the  inky  darkness,  as  they  sat 
together  at  the  window,  she  said:  "Ethel,  I  know 
what  makes  the  lightning.  God  is  standing  just  be- 
hind that  cloud  with  a  candle  in  his  hand  and  he  puts 
it  out  and  pulls  it  back  again  quick — just  like  that;" 
and  she  suited  that  action  to  the  word. 

Once  she  had  been  put  to  bed  and  told  to  go  to 
sleep,  yet  soon  afterwards  her  mother  heard  the 
patter  of  little  feet  over  head,  and  on  going  up  to 
the  room  found  the  little  scamp  rummaging  in  the 
bureau  drawers  and  decorating  herself  with  choice 
pieces  of  jewelry.  She  was  again  put  into  her  crib, 
with  a  sharp  admonition,  but  pretty  soon  the  patter 
was  heard  once  more  and  she  was  found  sailing 


1 84  DOROTHY  DAY 

improvised  paper  boats  in  the  wash  basin.  A  spank- 
ing followed  and  a  promise  of  amendment,  but  the 
noise  was  heard  again  and  the  little  rogue  was  found 
on  the  floor  playing  with  the  kitten.  Suddenly  she 
looked  up  and  saw  her  mother's  face  right  over  her. 
Jumping  to  her  feet,  she  ran  to  the  side  of  the  bed, 
and  with  a  look  of  consternation  and  shame  on  her 
face,  she  fell  upon  her  knees  and  said  in  great  earn- 
estness: "Please,  dear  Lord,  come  and  make  Doro- 
thy a  good  little  girl  right  away  quick!"  Many  art 
older  transgressor,  under  like  circumstances,  desires 
the  same  sudden  reformation. 

But  all  her  faults  and  shortcomings  only  set  off 
the  real  charm  of  the  child,  the  dazzling  happiness 
that  surrounded  her  like  an  aureole,  that  flashed 
from  her  mischievous  eyes,  and  rang  out  in  merry 
laughter  from  her  lips.  It  was  instantly  contagious. 
It  filled  the  whole  house  with  joy.  It  made  Doro- 
thy's father  call  her  his  "Little  Sunshine."  And 
when  she  had  grown  up  it  made  a  certain  young 
man  feel  that  there  was  light  enough  in  her  presence 
to  dissipate  any  gloom  which  might  pervade  all 
other  portions  of  the  universe.  And  no  moth  ever 
flitted  around  a  candle  with  less  regard  to  the  singe- 
ing of  his  wings,  than  did  I  around  the  flame  of  that 
bright  creature's  presence. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ALBERT  AND  ETHEL 

ALBERT  had  often  said  to  me  he  would  never 
marry.  The  chains  of  matrimony  were  not  for  him. 
The  liberty  of  a  single  life  was  necessary  for  his 
roving  and  unstable  nature,  and  he  entirely  denied 
the  possibility  that  there  could  be  any  one  with  suf- 
ficient attractions  to  subdue  him  to  domesticity. 
Yet,  during  the  summer  that  he  and  I  were  abroad 
it  was  plain  enough  that  Ethel  had  stolen  her  way 
into  his  heart.  Her  gentle  manners  never  repelled 
him,  never  grated  upon  his  impulsiveness,  and  he 
became  more  and  more  devoted  to  her  as  the  weeks 
went  by.  As  for  her,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  her 
affections  were  deeply  engaged.  To  me,  indeed, 
such  a  result  seemed  inevitable.  What  girl  could 
be  long  in  the  companionship  of  such  a  man  and 
resist  his  attractive  presence  and  brilliant  conver- 
sation? Albert  never  spoke  to  me  upon  the  sub- 
ject and  when  I  tried  to  rally  him,  he  retorted  so 
vigorously  concerning  myself  and  Dorothy  that  I 
thought  it  best  to  let  him  alone.  He  was  doubt- 
less ashamed  to  admit  that  his  claim  of  invulnera- 
bility had  been  so  quickly  shattered.  When  we  re- 
turned to  New  York,  it  seemed  to  me,  although  no 
engagement  was  announced,  that  there  was  some 


1 86  DOROTHY  DAY 

understanding  between  them.  Finally  I  asked  him 
point  blank  if  it  were  not  so,  and  he  told  me  about 
it. 

One  night  on  the  voyage  home  they  stood  at  the 
prow  of  the  ship  watching  the  long  pathway  made 
by  the  moonlight  upon  the  ocean.  Albert  was  talk- 
ing of  his  plans  for  the  future,  of  the  political  career 
he  had  marked  out  when  he  should  return  to  Louis- 
iana, of  his  determination  to  make  for  himself  not 
only  a  fortune  but  a  name.  Dorothy  would  have 
laughed  me  out  of  countenance  if  I  had  dared  to 
make  any  such  confession  to  her,  but  Ethel  was 
filled  with  sympathetic  enthusiasm.  She  was  sure 
he  would  be  more  than  all  he  hoped.  She  would 
follow  his  career  at  every  step,  and  how  she  would 
rejoice  at  his  success! 

A  declaration  of  love  came  from  his  lips  almost 
without  his  will.  It  was  not  exactly  the  story  of 
Othello  and  Desdemona,  for  his  exploits  were  not 
in  the  past  but  in  the  future.  She  loved  him  for 
the  great  plans  he  had  made  and  he  loved  her  that 
she  did  smile  on  them. 

Ethel's  parents  were  unwilling  that  she  should 
be  married  for  some  time  to  come  and  insisted  that 
she  should  have  at  least  a  year  in  society  before  a 
definite  betrothal. 

The  following  winter  was  a  brilliant  one  for  her. 
At  the  balls,  the  dinners,  the  theatre  parties,  she 
was  greatly  admired.  Many  were  the  youths  at- 
tracted by  her  gracious  presence,  and  there  was 


DOROTHY  DAY  187 

more  than  one  who  sought  her  hand.  She  had  an 
invincible  reluctance  to  inflict  sorrow  upon  any  one 
and  when  she  dismissed  a  suitor  it  was  with  such 
tenderness  that  it  sometimes  encouraged  him  to  con- 
tinue his  addresses.  One  of  these  incidents  came  to 
Albert's  knowledge,  inspired  him  with  the  convic- 
tion that  Ethel  was  a  coquette,  and  awakened  in 
him  all  the  resentment  of  his  revengeful  nature.  He 
acted  in  a  manner  quite  in  keeping  with  his  char- 
acter. He  uttered  not  one  word  of  reproach,  he 
continued  assiduous  in  his  attentions,  but  he  formed 
in  his  mind  an  atrocious  resolution.  He  would  set 
about  to  win  her  affections  more  deeply  than  ever; 
they  should  become  engaged,  and  after  the  an- 
nouncement was  made  he  would  forsake  her  and 
let  her  feel  the  humiliation  of  desertion.  This  would 
be  a  fitting  punishment  for  her  perfidy.  And  thus 
this  gentle  creature,  utterly  faithful  to  the  unworthy 
man  to  whom  she  had  given  her  heart,  was,  each 
week,  each  month,  involved  more  and  more  securely 
in  the  toils.  Her  parents,  seeing  that  after  her  win- 
ter in  society  her  affections  were  unchanged,  no 
longer  interposed  any  objection  to  the  engagement. 
Albert,  who  was  pursuing  his  studies  at  the  law 
school,  had,  however,  decided  to  abandon  the  pro- 
fession, having  received  a  favorable  business  propo- 
sition from  some  influential  friends  of  his  father's 
in  New  Orleans.  So  in  June  the  engagement  was 
announced.  Albert  spent  most  of  the  summer  at 


1 88  DOROTHY  DAY 

the  country  home  of  the  Days,  and  was  constantly 
with  his  affianced  bride. 

I  went  occasionally  to  visit  Dorothy  while  he  was 
there,  and  she  played  her  pranks  upon  me  with 
greater  freedom  than  she  had  ever  done  before.  I 
had  once  spoken  to  her  with  complacency  of  my 
exploits  in  horsemanship,  of  leaping  fences  and  of 
standing  upon  Roger's  back.  Dorothy  was  herself 
accustomed  to  cross-country  riding,  though  she  never 
told  me  of  this,  but  devised  a  subtle  plan  for  my 
discomfiture.  One  afternoon  she  proposed  that  we 
should  ride  together  across  a  tract  of  land  that  her 
father  was  laying  out  as  a  park.  We  galloped 
merrily  over  the  fields  and  up  and  down  the  hills 
till  we  came  to  an  old-fashioned  stake-and-rider 
fence,  which  had  not  yet  been  torn  down.  She 
whipped  her  horse  and,  running  ahead,  cleared  the 
fence  at  a  bound  and  then  turned  around  to  watch 
me.  I  followed  as  fast  as  I  could,  ran  my  heels  into 
my  horse's  sides  and  did  everything  which  ought  to 
be  done  to  induce  the  brute  to  go  over,  but  he 
stopped  short,  with  his  head  almost  touching  the 
fence,  while  I  writhed  in  many  contortions  trying  to 
stay  on  his  neck,  upon  which  I  had  been  inconti- 
nently projected.  I  can  see  her  now  with  her  fair 
hair  streaming  down  her  back  and  hear  her  ring- 
ing laughter  at  my  plight.  Of  course  I  had  to  try 
it  again,  and  this  time  I  was  more  successful.  I  went 
over  by  breaking  down  the  fence.  Then  we  came 
to  a  wide  ditch  and  Dorothy's  horse  cleared  it  at 


DOROTHY  DAY  189 

a  bound,  while  mine  first  balked  and  then  went 
splashing  through  the  mud  at  the  bottom.  Words 
cannot  paint  the  tortures  I  suffered  at  making  the 
sorry  spectacle  I  did  in  her  presence.  She  had 
given  me  a  horse  that  could  not  leap,  but  she  after- 
wards very  demurely  expressed  her  surprise  that  1 
had  found  any  difficulty  at  such  an  easy  thing.  And 
when  the  fall  months  came  and  the  Days  went  back 
to  town,  Dorothy  amused  herself  by  teaching  the 
Quaker  boy  to  dance,  and  after  I  had  become  pro- 
ficient, as  I  thought,  and  had  asked  her  to  be  my 
partner  in  a  German,  I  found  that  she  had  taught 
me  something  that  nobody  else  knew,  and  that  ex- 
cept when  I  was  dancing  with  her,  I  floundered  help- 
lessly. She  would  banter  me  to  do  the  most  out- 
rageous things,  and  was  indeed  quite  willing  to  make 
a  little  fool  of  herself  if  she  could  see  me  perform- 
ing a  more  important  role  of  the  same  kind.  Thus 
the  pranks  I  had  been  so  fond  of  playing  at  college 
were  visited  upon  my  own  head  with  tenfold  greater 
skill  at  the  hands  of  the  fair  creature  whose  eyes 
and  laughter  had  such  a  charm  for  me  that  I  could 
no  more  escape  than  a  fly  from  a  spider's  web. 

She  belonged  to  a  small  coterie  of  young  women 
of  her  own  age  and  disposition,  who  organized  a 
secret  society  in  mocking  imitation  of  ours.  The 
name  of  it  was  not  Greek,  however,  but  was  declared 
to  be  Choctaw.  Into  this  a  number  of  young  men 
were  initiated  as  associate  members  and  elected  to 
offices  which,  when  interpreted  to  us,  we  found  were 


1 9o  DOROTHY  DAY 

"Grand  Ash  Man,"  Sublime  Rag  Picker,"  'Majestic 
Chimney  Sweep"  and  the  like.  We  were  once  in- 
vited to  a  dinner  of  the  order,  and  when  we  walked 
into  the  brilliantly  lighted  room,  we  found  there 
were  seats  for  the  girls  only,  and  aprons  for  us, 
and  that  we  were  expected  to  wait  upon  them  and 
take  our  own  dinner  afterwards  in  the  kitchen.  But, 
however  badly  we  might  be  used,  none  of  us  could 
be  driven  away.  There  was  nothing  Dorothy  ever 
asked  of  me  that  I  wouldn't  do.  If  she  had  bid 
me  put  my  head  up  the  chimney,  I  would  have  done 
it  without  questioning.  Indeed,  she  did  worse  things 
than  that.  She  used  to  sit  by  me  very  demurely  on 
the  sofa  and  ask  in  an  interested  way  about  my  plans 
in  life !  Once  she  wanted  to  see  a  poem  I  had  com- 
posed, and  finally  beguiled  me  into  reciting  it  for 
her!  I  creep  all  over  as  I  think  of  it!  I  had  a  very 
high  opinion  of  that  poem  at  the  time.  I  was  under 
a  sort  of  Tennvsonian-Swinburnian  spell  and  my 
effusion  glistened  with  Oriental  imagery.  It  was 
called  "Ayesha"  and  began  thus: 

"Evening:.    The  crescent  on  Medina's  mosque 
Gleamed  golden-glittering  in  the  sunset  sky — 
The  palm  trees  climbed  luxuriant  up  the  hill 
Whereon  the  prophet's  holy  city  sat; 
The  trumpet-voiced  Muezzin  called  to  prayer, 
And  all  Medina,  falling,  worshiped  prone. 
Sad,  in  the  deep  seclusion  of  her  home, 
Ayesha  sat,  Mohammed's  blooming  bride, 


DOROTHY  DAY  191 

Fair  as  the  Houris  in  Al  Arat's  groves, 

And  streamlet-woven  gardens,  beauty-crowned, 

Black-eyed  and  raven-haired,  pale  as  the  moon. 

The  verses  then  went  on  to  tell  of  a  little  domestic 
difference  finally  healed  by  an  appropriate  revela- 
tion from  Allah.  I  pronounced  the  lines  in  a  low  key 
and  with  great  solemnity.  It  seemed  to  me  they 
were  very  impressive — and  Dorothy  clapped  her 
fair  little  hands  at  my  balderdash  in  great  delight. 
Then  she  asked  me  for  a  copy,  and  a  few  days  after- 
wards she  had  a  poem  of  her  own,  called  "Cryesha," 
which  she  recited  for  me  in  the  presence  of  a  few 
friends,  in  such  droll  heart-rending  tones,  that  it 
awakened  universal  merriment  among  the  others, 
who  not  knowing  the  source  from  which  it  was 
taken,  could  not  understand  why  I  blushed  and 
looked  foolish  and  did  not  enjoy  it. 

Thus  she  made  life  a  heavy  burden  to  me.  When 
we  were  alone  she  would  even  upbraid  me  for  my 
bashfulness,  and  then,  when  I  offered  her  the  strong- 
est tangible  evidence  that  I  was  not  bashful  and  tried 
to  kiss  her,  she  would  run  like  a  deer  and  take  shelter 
where  I  could  not  follow. 

Why  is  it  that  the  boy  will  fall  in  love  with  the 
girl  who  torments  him  ?  Her  sparkling  eyes  haunted 
me  by  day  and  by  night.  Her  face  beamed  out  of 
every  page  I  read,  and  the  song  of  every  bird  seemed 
to  have  in  it  something  of  the  echo  of  her  laughter. 

Meanwhile,  Albert  went  to  New  Orleans  to  take 


1 92  DOROTHY  DAY 

the  place  offered  him  in  that  city.  I  went  down  to 
the  steamer  to  see  him  sail.  Ethel  was  there  with 
her  father,  and  the  love  and  utter  devotion  that 
spoke  in  her  eyes  and  in  every  gesture  and  tone  of 
her  voice  would  have  been  enough  to  have  melted 
the  heart  even  of  one  who  was  bent  upon  revenge. 
I  knew  nothing  of  Albert's  abominable  purpose,  but 
I  noticed  even  then  that  he  seemed  to  treat  her  with 
a  certain  coolness  and  reserve  which  I  attributed 
to  his  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  others.  I 
thought  how  differently  I  would  act  if  it  were  Doro- 
thy, and  I  looked  upon  his  better  fortune  with  the 
elder  sister,  not  without  a  tinge  of  envy.  Some  two 
weeks  afterwards  I  was  at  the  Days'  and  noticed  that 
Ethel  looked  very  pale  and  anxious.  She  asked 
me  if  I  had  heard  anything  from  Albert,  said  that 
she  had  not  had  a  single  word,  although  she  had 
written  him  every  day,  and  he  had  promised  to  do 
the  same.  She  had  also  telegraphed  and  had  re- 
ceived no  answer,  though  her  father  had  learned  at 
the  office  of  the  company  that  the  steamer  had  ar- 
rived. She  was  sure  Albert  must  be  very  ill  or  that 
some  accident  had  befallen  him.  I  had  heard  noth- 
ing, but  that  night  I  sent  a  telegram  to  a  friend  of 
mine  in  New  Orleans  asking  him  to  inquire,  and 
next  day  I  received  an  answer  that  Albert  had  ar- 
rived safely  and  was  quite  well.  The  thing  was 
inexplicable,  so  I  wrote  him  a  full  letter,  telling  him 
of  Ethel's  anxieties  and  that  I  could  not  understand 
his  conduct.  An  answer  came  speaking  of  matters 


DOROTHY  DAY  193 

concerning  which  he  said  I  could  know  nothing,  con- 
taining vague  hints  of  coquetry  and  infidelities,  with 
the  remark  that  it  was  time  that  Ethel  should  her- 
self feel  the  bitterness  of  the  sting  which  she  had 
long  since  inflicted  upon  him.  I  was  filled  with 
indignation  and  answered  him  that  I  did  not  believe 
a  word  of  his  accusations,  but  that  if  he  had  had 
anything  to  reproach  her  with,  he  should  have 
spoken  out  like  a  man  at  the  time,  and  not  continued 
his  attentions  afterwards,  only  to  crush  her  now; 
that  I  would  have  no  such  man  among  my  friends, 
and  that  if  he  had  nothing  better  to  say,  all  between 
us  must  be  at  an  end.  I  received  no  answer;  I  never 
heard  from  Albert  again  nor  did  I  ever  see  him 
until — but  that  belongs  to  another  part  of  this 
biography. 

I  called  on  Dorothy  at  once  and  I  was  glad  that 
Ethel  was  not  there,  for  I  would  not  have  had  the 
heart  to  break  the  news  to  her.  Dorothy  was  furious 
when  I  gave  her  Albert's  letter.  Her  cheeks  were 
flushed  and  her  eyes  flashed  fire.  "And  this  comes," 
she  exclaimed,  "from  giving  her  heart  to  a  man!" 
And  she  looked  at  me  with  such  indignation  that  I 
felt  involved  in  the  universal  guilt  of  my  sex,  and 
could  fancy  that  her  thought  was,  "How  do  I  konw 
that  you  would  be  any  better?"  But  in  a  moment 
her  rage  passed  and  the  tears  came  (I  had  never 
seen  her  weep  before).  "Poor  Ethel,  poor  Ethel, 
how  shall  we  ever  tell  her?"  and  taking  the  letter 
and  bidding  me  good-night,  she  hastily  left  the  room. 


1 94  DOROTHY  DAY 

It  seems  that  Ethel,  who  had  become  distracted 
in  her  anxiety  for  Albert's  safety,  had  insisted  upon 
going  instantly  to  New  Orleans  herself.  Her  mother 
had  determined  to  accompany  her  and  they  had 
made  their  preparations  for  leaving.  Dorothy 
showed  the  letter  to  her  mother,  who  told  Ethel 
that  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  go,  for  they  had 
just  learned  from  Mr.  Dillingham  that  Albert  was 
safe  and  well.  Ethel's  eyes  flashed  with  resent- 
ment. It  was  not  true,  it  could  not  be  true.  Albert 
could  never  have  failed  to  write  to  her  for  so  long 
a  time.  Mr.  Dillingham  had  been  misinformed. 
But,  said  her  mother,  Albert  had  himself  written 
to  Mr.  Dillingham.  And  then  Ethel  did  what  every 
good,  true  and  devoted  woman  ought  to  do  under 
the  circumstances — she  accused  me  of  lying.  And 
when  her  mother  asked  what  motive  I  could  have 
for  such  a  falsehood,  she  answered  that  she  did  not 
know  or  care;  perhaps  I,  who  had  been  less  happy 
in  my  attentions  to  Dorothy,  was  envious  at  Albert's 
better  fortune — who  could  say  what  the  motive  was  ? 
Her  mother  tried  to  tell  her  as  gently  as  possible 
the  contents  of  Albert's  letter,  softening  the  words 
as  best  she  might  to  take  away  the  harshness 
of  its  meaning,  but  Ethel  showed  all  the  more  indig- 
nation against  those  who  dared  to  fabricate  such  a 
story.  And  in  her  desperation  she  was  more  than 
ever  bent  upon  immediate  departure.  Mrs.  Day 
had  not  intended  to  show  the  letter  to  her  daughter, 
but  now  no  other  course  was  possible.  Ethel  read 


DOROTHY  DAY  195 

it;  at  first  she  was  dazed,  and  then,  uttering  not  one 
word  against  the  man  who  had  so  dreadfully 
wronged  her,  she  began  to  reproach  herself!  She 
must  have  given  some  apparent  cause  for  the  false 
report  that  had  poisoned  him  against  her.  She  had 
seemingly  been  too  kind  to  others,  though  heaven 
knew  that  none  but  he  had  ever  come  within  the 
shadow  of  her  heart !  She  sat  up  all  night  and  wrote 
Albert  a  long  letter,  passionate,  tender,  telling  him 
in  full  all  she  had  done  in  each  and  every  matter 
which  it  seemed  to  her  might  have  given  him  the 
slightest  cause  for  his  suspicions.  She  had  not  told 
him  those  things  before,  because  she  had  concluded 
that  they  were  not  her  secret  alone,  and  she  would 
not  tell  him  now  but  for  the  dreadful  misunderstand- 
ing they  had  caused.  She  had  always  been  what 
she  still  was,  his  and  his  only,  and  whatever  he 
might  do,  or  however  he  might  treat  her,  she  would 
remain  his  and  his  only  until  death.  But  Dorothy 
came  into  her  room  in  the  early  morning  while  she 
was  still  writing,  and  saw  the  letter.  Such  a  letter, 
she  said,  should  never  be  sent.  Her  father  was 
informed  of  it,  and  in  an  earnest  talk  with  Ethel  he 
pointed  out  the  shamefulness  and  deceit  of  Albert's 
conduct  and  declared  that  no  child  of  his  should 
ever,  with  his  consent,  become  the  wife  of  any  man 
who  was  capable  of  such  duplicity.  He  asked  her 
to  consider  what  her  future  life  would  be  by  the 
side  of  one  who  in  the  midst  of  smiles  and  caresses, 
was  planning  his  bitterest  revenge.  What  confidence 


196  DOROTHY  DAY 

could  she  ever  have  in  his  word,  what  security  that 
at  any  moment  he  might  not  abandon  or  betray  her? 
No  happiness  could  ever  be  found  in  such  compan- 
ionship. Mr.  Day  had  always  a  very  strong  hold 
on  Ethel's  confidence.  In  this  case  his  reasons  were 
unanswerable,  and  Ethel  was  now  obliged  to  face 
the  dreadful  truth  that  her  love  had  been  bestowed 
upon  one  who  was  utterly  unworthy  of  it.  Her 
idol  had  been  shattered  and  within  her  heart  there 
was  nothing  but  emptiness  and  desolation. 

She  did  not  make  any  extravagant  demonstrations 
of  sorrow.  She  tried  to  live  in  the  old  way,  to  go 
about  her  daily  round  of  duties  the  same  as  before, 
with  a  smile  (what  a  sad  smile  it  was!)  for  her 
sister  and  her  parents  and  her  friends.  But  the 
shock  was  too  heavy  and  it  was  not  long  until  her 
health  began  to  give  way.  Morning  after  morning 
she  appeared  with  those  heavy  eyes  that  are  the 
sure  index  of  a  sleepless  night.  She  said  nothing 
more  of  her  grief  to  any  one — not  to  her  sister,  not 
to  her  mother — it  was  wholly  stifled  in  her  own 
breast,  nor  did  the  others  venture  to  speak  to  her 
of  her  sorrow,  though  her  pale,  thin  face  was  the 
constant  reminder  of  it  to  all.  As  the  weeks  passed 
on,  her  silent  agony  became  more  and  more  acute 
until  at  last  it  became  apparent  that  her  mind  was 
giving  away.  She  imagined  that  Albert  was  at  her 
side;  she  began  to  talk  to  him,  and  sometimes 
Dorothy  or  her  mother  would  come  upon  her  while 
she  was  calling  him  by  the  old  endearing  names, 


DOROTHY  DAY  197 

and  planning  with  him  for  their  new  house  and  the 
details  of  their  future  life.  These  agonizing  scenes 
became  more  frequent  and  cast  a  deep  gloom  upon 
the  family.  Dorothy  even  ceased  to  torment  me. 
I  had  told  her  what  I  had  written  to  Albert,  that 
I  had  received  no  answer  and  never  expected  to  hear 
from  him  again.  And  although  she  said  nothing,  I 
saw  an  expression  of  gratitude  in  her  eyes.  The 
family  physician  insisted  upon  a  change  of  scene, 
so  the  Days  determined  to  spend  the  winter  in  Cuba. 
The  surroundings  would  be  new  and  interesting  and 
Havana  was  not  so  far  away  that  Mr.  Day  could 
not  be  called  home  again  if  any  emergency  should 
require  it.  The  family  left  about  the  first  of  De- 
cember, and  when  the  Christmas  holidays  came  on, 
I,  too,  determined  to  spend  them  in  Havana !  Doro- 
thy was  much  surprised  to  see  me,  but  I  think  not 
altogether  displeased.  Her  sister,  although  ill, 
was  no  longer  subject  to  hallucinations  and  had  be- 
gun to  take  some  interest  in  the  strange  scenes 
around  her,  and  the  family  were  encouraged.  Doro- 
thy had  regained  her  spirits  and  now  resumed  her 
occupation  of  amusing  herself  at  the  expense  of 
the  yoor  youth  who  was  so  deeply  enamored  by  her 
dazzling  presence  that  he  had  the  power  neither  to 
retaliate  nor  to  escape.  Again  she  made  sport  of 
everything,  but  I  could  see  from  the  way  she  watched 
Ethel  that  part  of  her  merriment  was  not  quite 
spontaneous,  but  had  also  the  purpose  of  calling  her 
sister  away  from  her  grief.  The  more  Ethel  seemed 


198  DOROTHY  DAY 

shocked  at  her  levity  the  greater  appeared  to  be 
Dorothy's  delight.  There  was  a  little  fat  priest 
who  came  each  day  to  instruct  the  family  in  Spanish, 
who  was  a  special  object  of  Dorothy's  satire.  He 
thought  he  understood  the  English  language,  and 
indeed  if  English  were  spoken  exactly  as  it  is  written, 
and  if  men  to-day  actually  talked  the  language  of 
Addison  and  Sheridan,  probably  the  English  of  the 
good  padre  would  have  been  comprehensible.  He 
had  read  much.  He  understood  thoroughly  the 
rules  of  etymology  and  syntax.  He  had  devoted 
more  energy  to  the  task  than  a  Spaniard  commonly 
devotes  to  anything — but  he  told  us  that  he  had 
learned  the  language  without  a  master.  This  we 
could  have  divined  for  as  he  talked  away  to  us  in 
easy,  pleasant,  fluent  fashion,  it  was  often  quite  im- 
possible to  tell  what  part  of  his  conversation  was  in 
this  alleged  English  and  what  was  in  Spanish,  the 
two  languages  sounded  so  much  alike.  Dorothy 
would  gravely  talk  to  him  in  the  same  jargon  which 
she  imitated  to  perfection,  and  he  appeared  to  under- 
stand her  more  readily  than  the  rest  of  us.  Don 
Jose  was  a  timid  creature,  a  very  Don  Abbondio 
for  cowardice,  and  he  frankly  gave  us  a  comical 
description  of  losing  his  voice  through  terror  on  the 
occasion  of  an  earthquake  while  he  was  saying  mass 
in  a  country  village,  and  of  taking  to  his  heels,  fol- 
lowed by  the  entire  populace.  Dorothy,  who  had 
some  little  talent  in  drawing,  made  a  sketch  of  this 
interesting  scene  which  she  gave  to  me  with  instruc- 


DOROTHY  DAY  199 

tions  (similar  to  those  on  steamers  in  regard  to  the 
use  of  life  preservers),  in  case  I  should  ever  be 
caught  in  a  similar  predicament. 

My  stay  in  Cuba  was  prolonged  some  time  after 
the  winter  vacation  was  at  an  end.  The  truth  was  I 
could  not  tear  myself  away  from  Dorothy,  so  I 
came  back  with  the  Days  in  the  latter  part  of 
January.  I  had  a  good  deal  of  extra  work  to  make 
up  on  account  of  my  absence,  but  this  was  no  great 
hardship,  and  now  that  I  was  nearing  the  end  of  my 
four  years'  course,  I  found  myself  in  the  front  rank 
of  my  class  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  had 
entered  college  very  young.  My  classmates,  too, 
had  conferred  a  number  of  honors  upon  me;  and 
when  I  returned  from  Cuba  I  found  that  they  had 
elected  me  class  orator.  I  could  not  but  look  with 
some  satisfaction  upon  my  academic  career. 


Book  III 


THE  WAR 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  CALL  TO  ARMS 

IT  was  amid  such  ocurrences  as  the  foregoing, 
scenes  commonplace  enough  in  the  lives  of  the  well- 
to-do,  that  there  broke  in  the  discordant  clash  of 
arms.  For  this  was  the  time  of  the  beginning  of 
the  greatest  war  in  American  history.  There  had 
long  been  mutterings  of  the  approaching  storm. 
The  political  struggle  which  preceded  the  outbreak 
of  hostilities  had  been  bitter  and  desperate.  In  this 
struggle  the  great  question  to  be  decided  was  whether 
a  vast  region  west  of  the  Mississippi,  which  was  still 
unorganized,  was  to  be  devoted  to  negro  slavery. 
Douglas  had  thrown  the  apple  of  discord  among 
the  contending  factions  when,  in  1854,  he  secured 
the  repeal  of  the  "time  honored"  Missouri  Com- 
promise, which  had  fixed  the  line  between  slavery 
and  freedom.  After  this  repeal  three  great  parties 
had  struggled  for  supremacy — the  South,  with  its 
claim  that  the  constitution  by  its  inherent  power  car- 
ried slavery  into  all  the  territories,  the  Northern 
Democracy  insisting  that  these  territories  should 
regulate  their  own  "domestic  institutions"  in  their 
own  way,  and  the  new  Republican  party  declaring 
that  it  was  both  the  right  and  the  duty  of  Con- 
gress to  prohibit  slavery  therein.  In  1860  there 


204  DOROTHY  DAY 

appeared,  indeed,  a  fourth  party  which  pretended 
to  ignore  these  burning  issues,  but  like  all  negative 
forces,  it  counted  for  little  in  the  contest.  It  was 
the  division  among  their  adversaries  that  gave  the 
victory  to  the  Republicans  and  elected  Abraham 
Lincoln,  whereupon  the  South,  considering  the 
choice  an  attack  upon  its  most  cherished  institution, 
determined  to  break  up  the  Union.  State  after 
State  seceded,  the  Confederacy  was  organized,  and 
with  the  fall  of  Sumter  began  the  stern  reality  of 
Civil  War. 

It  is  hard  to-day  to  realize  the  intolerance  of  the 
fury  which  swept  over  the  country  at  this  dreadful 
time.  The  man  who  in  the  South  gave  utterance 
to  "incendiary  doctrines"  concerning  the  abolition 
of  slavery  was  not  permitted  to  live,  while  in  the 
North  those  who  opposed  the  general  wave  of 
patriotism  which  swept  over  the  country  after  the 
fall  of  Sumter  were  often  compelled  to  seek  safety 
either  in  silence  or  in  flight.  The  President  called 
for  seventy-five  thousand  volunteers,  a  number  piti- 
ful enough  by  the  side  of  the  enormous  armaments 
afterward  required  by  the  exigencies  of  the  war; 
but  then  it  seemed  very  large.  The  quotas  were 
quickly  filled.  But  soon  new  levies  were  needed, 
new  requisitions  were  made,  and  it  was  not  long 
until  it  seemed  clear,  at  least  to  me,  that  the  govern- 
ment ought  to  have  the  services  of  every  young  man 
in  the  North  who  loved  his  country  and  who  was 
able  to  go  to  the  field. 


DOROTHY  DAY  205 

In  the  matter  of  my  Quakerism,  although  I  had 
strayed  far  enough  from  the  fold,  and  had  become 
to  all  outward  appearances  one  of  the  world's 
people,  yet  there  were  certain  things  absorbed  in 
early  life  that  were  still  clinging  to  me  closer  than 
I  knew,  forming  part  of  my  essential  nature,  and 
although  lying  dormant  upon  ordinary  occasions 
under  conduct  that  was  often  frivolous  and  foolish, 
yet  coming  forth  unexpectedly  at  critical  moments, 
and  controlling  my  actions,  almost  against  my  will. 
Among  these  things  was  the  habit,  acquired  in  child- 
hood, of  following  implicitly  every  strong  and  clear 
conviction  of  duty.  I  might  argue  as  much  as  I 
liked  that  there  was  no  illumination  of  the  spirit, 
no  certainty  that  "the  voice  within"  was  telling  me 
the  truth,  yet  the  habit  of  obedience  was  there,  and 
in  really  important  matters  if  I  once  definitely  saw 
a  thing  was  right,  that  was  the  end  of  the  matter,  I 
had  to  do  it,  and  I  must  consider  blessed  every  man 
of  clear  intelligence  in  whom  that  habit  has  been 
implanted  in  early  life. 

There  were  points  of  Quaker  doctrine,  however, 
that  took  no  deep  root  in  me,  such  for  instance  as 
the  peace  principles  of  the  society — for  they  seemed 
to  me  not  workable.  I  felt  that  all  government  was 
and  must  be  founded  upon  force,  that  if  there  were 
a  few  bad  men  in  the  world  determined  to  use  their 
power,  they  could  prevail  against  a  whole  universe 
of  non-resistants.  So  I  was  a  poor  Quaker  as  far  as 
fighting  was  concerned.  Yet  there  was  another 


206  DOROTHY  DAY 

"testimony"  borne  by  the  Society  that  affected  me 
profoundly.  It  was  the  protest  which  was  very 
early  uttered  by  Quakerism  against  all  forms  of 
bondage  and  oppression,  both  that  spiritual  oppres- 
sion in  matters  of  conscience  and  belief  from  which 
Friends  had  so  greatly  suffered  in  the  times  of  the 
persecutions,  and  also  a  protest  against  all  forms  of 
traffic  in  human  beings.  For  the  Quakers  were  per- 
haps the  pioneers  in  the  agitation  that  culminated  in 
the  overthrow  of  African  slavery.  The  Quaker, 
Benjamin  Lundy,  was  the  first  of  the  Abolitionists, 
the  predecessor  of  William  Lloyd  Garrison;  nearly 
all  the  members  of  the  Society  took  an  interest  in 
anti-slavery  movements,  and  some,  like  Lucretia 
Mott,  Isaac  T.  Hopper  and  Levi  Coffin,  were  very 
prominent  therein.  Among  the  "queries"  respect- 
ing the  state  of  the  society  to  be  answered  at  the 
periodical  "meetings  of  business"  was  one  inquiring 
whether  Friends  were  "clear"  of  participating  in  any 
form  in  the  traffic  in  human  flesh.  Even  in  the 
South  members  of  the  Society  generally  refrained 
from  owning  slaves,  while  in  the  North  they  were 
most  active  in  aiding  fugitives  to  escape  across  the 
Canadian  border. 

The  family  in  which  I  had  been  born  and  bred 
had  its  full  share  of  work  in  the  anti-slavery  agita- 
tion. My  dear  little  auntie  always  insisted  that 
everything  which  came  into  the  house  should  be  the 
product  of  free  labor.  No  cotton,  rice,  hemp,  coffee 
or  anything  else  would  she  use  unless  she  was  satis- 


DOROTHY  DAY  207 

fied  that  no  slave  had  had  a  hand  in  its  production. 
She  would  not  touch  a  plate  of  ice-cream  or  pre- 

J.  £7 

serves  at  a  friend's  house  until  she  knew  that  the 
sugar  had  not  been  defiled  by  the  traffic  inhuman 
flesh.  She  regarded  the  products  of  slave  labor  as 
stolen  goods.  The  slave  had  been  robbed'  'of  '  tiis1 
wages  for  producing  them,  and  to  her  they  were 
unclean.  She  used  to  attend  the  meetings  of  the 
Anti-slavery  Society,  which  was  sometimes  'f'aftrler 
a  dangerous  thing  to  do,  since  rioting  and  blood- 
shed occasionally  occurred  in  the  efforts  to  breakup' 
these  assemblies. 

All  our  family  were  Abolitio.nists  and  our  house 
had  been  a  station  on  the  Underground  Railroad  to 
Canada.      Grandmother   especially   had   been   very 
active  in  her  efforts  to  succor  'ftHe!jmdgM  VAu1!1 
often  heard  mother  tell  ofirr^a:r^>;;a  jiegfci  who 
had  been  concealed  for  months  in  our  house  while 
his  pursuers  were  sea  rchifig1  ¥tOttn  elsewhere,  as 
well  as  of  the  lawsuit  that  F6fibj^b^  :lf$Bfe?V 
own  appearance  on  the^wfrriess  stand  whe^e  M'  baf- 
fled the  lawyers  of  the  slaveholder,   and 


keeping  strictly  to  the  t'lKith;  !Ud  nothing  of  wh 
they  wanted  to  know."  Fcrf-'  when  the  trial  came  on 
and  the  rest  of  the  family  went  off  to  some  unknown 
place  in  New  Jersey,  sH£J  w^Ieft  alone  in  New 
York  for  the  very',  reason'  that  she  was  the  only 
one  who  knew  nothing'  about  the  hegro,  having;  been 
absent  while  he  was  secreted  in  the  house.  There- 
fore her  examination  came  to  an  untimely  end,  for 


DOROTHY  DAY 

she  did  not  even  know  where  the  rest  of  the  family 
had  gone,  they  having  expressly  left  no  word.  So 
in  the  summing  up  all  that  could  be  said  was  that 
"Mrs,.  ;TJ^rivewell  and  her  family  had  been  spirited 
aw.ay.;.$(pbpdy  knew  how  and  nobody  knew  where." 
Ijt;was  with  great  unction  that  mother  used  to  relate 
th^s  (jircum. stance  and  tell  of  the  quiet  return  of  the 
family jiftef^he  skies  had  cleared  again. 
-  j'^afl  jncleedjjpersonal  knowledge  of  some  of  these 
interesting  ,scene£%  One  morning  when  we  were  at 
breakfast  theje.w^s  driven  up  to  the  door,  by  an 
ill-looking  driver,  a  large  family  of  negroes  crowded 

into  a-  back.;    Ther:e,was  the  old  grandmother,  the 
i  inn  »jiijT7r;<nn<  ...         .*?  f  ' 

man  andhi^wij^anctthe  little  children,  one  or  them 
a  fcafty.  T/^y^ad,  |5epi  sent  on  to  us  by  some  Friend 

further  soy th.ijiad  traveled  all  night,  had  crossed  the 
i    \j\'->.\  f^aOj  HI.  ° 

ferry  in^e  e,  a  rly.  .morning,  and  were  consigned  to 
us  for  /urt^er.  ^^ed^tip.4, ,  I  remember  the  terror- 
stricken  faces  P^(th|e  j^egroesfy  the  obvious  curiosity  of 

the  driver,  andiOur  f  ears  when  we  dismissed  him  that 
<•  [jTrnmiTg   pijywanoi      .  .. . 

he  would  infor;ri|.lWv^uth.ojjities.  We  gave  the  fugi- 
tives a  hasty  breakfast,, pi;oyfaed  them  with  funds 
and  condnci:e^,,tjjieftj  to  anoih^^  Friend's  house  in 
town  untilj'jt^^utjiic  sent  on  Vith  greater  safety 

^v^fe;  •.rfsoa  (i!  Tio  iriLv/  vlim 

No  ppe ^  f^h,os^  .^ecoljec^ip^  begins  after  slavery 

was  abolished,  can  quite  realizq  thf^eep  fervor  of 
t^e,.^bqli^p^is^s,rjThRy  ^ejq  wiHing  4fO,undergo  any 
kind  of  mar^y^fiom,  in  the  hlessefl^work^of  setting 
free  the  caprtive,,, while  t:he  sympathiz.ers  w^th  slavery 


DOROTHY  DAY  209 

regarded  them  as  Pariahs,  thieves,  and  even  traitors, 
for  had  they  not  declared  that  the  matchless  constitu- 
tion of  our  fathers  was  itself  a  covenant  with  death? 
Our  family  did  not  hold  these  extreme  views  of  the 
Garrisonians,  but  for  all  that  we  came  in  for  our 
share  of  the  opprobrium. 

It  was  amid  such  influences  that  I  had  spent  my 
early  years.  I  had  read  with  breathless  eagerness 
the  accounts  in  the  "Anti-Slavery  Almanac"  of  the 
separation  of  families,  the  flogging,  the  branding; 
sometimes,  indeed,  the  burning  at  the  stake  of  help- 
less negroes,  and  my  heart  had  been  stirred  by  out- 
rages which  were  the  natural  fruit  of  the  deplorable 
institution  of  slavery.  I  recall  among  other  mem- 
ories of  early  boyhood,  a  small  paper-covered  book 
entitled  "The  Narrative  of  James  Williams — A 
Slave,"  giving  a  detailed  account  of  the  tortures  in- 
flicted by  one  "Huckstep,"  an  overseer,  a  man  who 
was  generally  intoxicated  with  peach  brandy,  and 
flogged  women  to  death  and  swore  dreadfully!  I 
was  especially  interested  in  the  "Life  of  Peter  Still," 
for  I  knew  Peter ;  he  came  often  to  our  house  while  he 
was  preparing  his  book  for  publication,  in  order  to 
raise  the  money  to  liberate  Vina  his  wife.  Some  one 
else  wrote  it  for  him,  for  he  was  not  able  even  to  read. 
Peter  had  been  kidnaped  and  taken  South  when  he 
was  a  boy,  and  had  suffered  much,  but  at  last  he 
fell  into  the  hands  of  a  good  master,  a  Jew,  who 
allowed  him  to  work  at  night  for  others  and  save 
money  with  which  he  bought  his  freedom,  and  I 


210  DOROTHY  DAY 

remember  the  comments  we  made,  how  splendid  it 
was  that  a  Jew  would  act  so  honorably  when  by  law 
he  might  have  kept  both  the  money  and  the  man. 

I  read  the  life  of  Fred  Douglas  and  the  biography 
of  Linda,  a  slave  woman  who  sometimes  used  to 
work  for  us,  who  had  been  kept  concealed  for  years 
in  the  low  attic  of  a  house  near  her  master's  planta- 
tion (a  room  where  she  could  not  stand  upright) 
before  she  finally  made  her  escape.  I  read  the  ac- 
counts of  the  fugitives  who  were  guided  for  weeks 
and  months  by  the  North  Star  on  their  way  to 
liberty.  I  read  "Helpers'  Impending  Crisis,"  that 
"incendiary"  book,  the  mere  possession  of  which 
sometimes  gave  short  shrift  to  the  luckless  wight 
upon  whose  person  it  was  found.  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  however,  I  had  not  read,  because  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin"  was  a  novel,  and  at  that  early  period 
of  my  life  all  novels  were  forbidden. 

Thus  from  my  childhood  there  was  begotten  in 
my  heart  an  intense  hatred  of  that  baleful  system 
which  afterwards  wrought  such  havoc  in  our  coun- 
try and  which,  though  long  extinct,  has  left  deep 
scars  that  sometimes  bleed  afresh  even  to-day. 

I  well  remember  the  day  when  the  news  carrie  of 
the  invasion  of  Harper's  Ferry  by  John  Brown.  I 
had  risen  very  early  that  morning  and  had  come 
down  to  the  dining-room  while  the  lights  were  still 
burning.  Uncle  Ephraim  held  the  newspaper  in 
his  thin  hands,  which  were  trembling.  A  strange 
light  glittered  in  his  eye;  his  words  were  incoherent 


DOROTHY  DAY  211 

as  he  handed  me  the  paper.  How  solemn  and  silent 
was  the  breakfast!  No  one  spoke  in  approval  of 
the  act,  for  how  could  we  as  consistent  Friends,  ap- 
prove of  a  lawless  deed  of  violence  and  blood?  But 
what  burning  sympathy  there  was  in  the  flushed 
faces — and  how  earnestly  the  boy  of  the  household 
hoped  that  the  oppressed  negroes  would  win  the 
liberty  which  was  their  right!  I  can  see  now  the 
madness  of  it  all,  the  crime,  indeed,  of  thus  attempt- 
ing to  let  loose  upon  the  people  of  the  South  the 
passions  of  an  enslaved  race.  Then  I  could  see  only 
the  auction  block,  the  lash  and  the  wrongs  that  had 
been  heaped  upon  the  slaves,  and  this  great  wicked- 
ness done  by  the  freest  and  foremost  people  in  all 
Christendom !  How  I  prayed  that  God  might  set 
free  the  slave  and  bring  to  naught  the  pride  of  his 
oppressors!  And  when  the  attempt  failed,  as  was 
inevitable,  how  bitter  the  disappointment!  How  we 
watched  every  step  in  the  trial  which  followed !  How 
we  hung  breathless  over  the  words  that  described 
the  heroic  constancy  of  the  wounded  man  in  his  bed 
in  the  court-room;  how  our  hearts  were  torn  with 
anguish  in  the  fatal  hour  when  we  knew  that  his 
life  was  to  be  offered  as  a  sacrifice  upon  the  gallows 
to  the  race  that  he  would  have  delivered  from  bond- 
age! How  eagerly  we  bought  the  "Life  of  John 
Brown,"  which  appeared  soon  afterward,  written 
by  Redpath,  his  associate  in  Kansas!  All  these 
things  can  be  understood  only  by  the  few  survivors 
of  the  thousands  who  felt  as  we  did  and  whose  hopes 


212  DOROTHY  DAY 

and  prayers  and  sufferings  were  the  inspiration  of 
that  great  song  whose  notes  still  awaken  a  thrill  as 
keen  and  deep  as  any  of  our  national  melodies. 

And  now  the  war  had  come,  the  war  for  freedom, 
the  war  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union.  Another 
call  had  been  made  by  the  President  for  troops  and 
I  felt  as  if  it  had  been  addressed  to  me  personally. 
It  was  high  time  to  make  up  my  mind  whether  I 
would  go  or  stay.  All  night  I  lay  awake  thinking 
it  over.  Poor  mother!  It  would  nearly  break  her 
heart!  I  certainly  did  not  desire  to  go.  I  was  just 
completing  my  college  course.  I  had  been  chosen 
class  orator  and  expected  soon  to  graduate  with 
honors.  But  then  came  the  argument:  "Upon 
whom  had  our  country  the  right  to  call  if  not  upon 
such  as  I?"  There  never  was  a  better  cause,  the 
preservation  of  the  world's  great  Republic,  the 
transmission  intact  to  future  times  of  that  precious 
heritage  which  had  come  from  our  revolutionary 
fathers.  Nay,  more ;  it  was  to  be  a  better,  purer  and 
greater  republic  than  it  had  ever  been — for  my  in- 
stinct told  me  that  slavery  could  not  long  survive 
the  overthrow  of  the  Confederacy.  And  then  the 
President  who  had  culled  us,  Lincoln,  the  great- 
hearted, honest,  gentle,  magnanimous !  How  tender 
were  the  words  of  his  first  inaugural  where  he  be- 
sought the  wanderers  to  return! 

He  had  been  our  choice  for  the  great  office  he 
was  filling.  But  of  what  value  the  support  of  his 
partisans,  if  at  the  trying  moment  they  would  not 


DOROTHY  DAY  213 

come  forth  at  his  call  to  sustain  him  in  performing 
the  heavy  duties  they  had  cast  upon  his  shoulders? 
And  the  poor  slaves !  We  had  worked  these  many 
years,  here  a  little  and  there  a  little,  to  right  their 
terrible  wrongs;  we  had  helped  to  rescue  a  few 
families  from  bondage,  but  now  when  the  supreme 
moment  had  come,  which  would  decide  whether 
slavery  should  live  or  die,  a  decision  involving  the 
destiny  of  millions,  should  I  shrink  from  devoting  my 
services — perhaps  my  life — to  the  great  cause?  The 
slave  power  had  lifted  its  mailed  hand  against  the 
best  government  on  earth,  and  woe  to  the  country, 
and  to  the  world  if  the  children  of  the  great  republic 
held  back  when  they  were  called  to  defend  her !  It 
was  curious,  too,  how  visions  of  Dorothy  mingled 
with  these  thoughts.  I  had  little  reason  to  think 
that  she  had  any  great  care  whether  I  went  or 
stayed,  and  yet  the  thought  came  again  and  again, 
"I  shall  be  worthy  of  her  only  if  I  do  my  duty." 
When  the  morning  light  streamed  through  the  cur- 
tains of  my  little  room,  my  mind  was  made  up.  I 
would  tell  my  father  first.  How  would  he  take  it? 
He  was  a  minister  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  and 
that  society  had  always  "disowned"  any  of  its  mem- 
bers who  took  up  arms  and  engaged  in  carnal  war- 
fare. I  cared  very  little  about  the  "disowning"  on 
my  own  account,  but  such  a  thing  would  be  a  humilia- 
tion to  him,  and  he  had  always  loved  me  so  tenderly 
that  the  thought  gave  me  much  uneasiness.  Still 
there  was  nothing  .else  to  be  done.  I  could  not  be 


2i4  DOROTHY  DAY 

coward  enough  to  run  away,  so  after  breakfast  I 
told  him  all.  He  was  deeply  moved,  but  there  was 
no  resistance  on  his  part  to  my  purpose.  He  looked 
at  me  for  a  few  moments  with  tears  in  his  eyes  and 
then  said:  "Well,  my  boy,  if  thy  conscience  tells 
thee  that  this  thing  is  right,  it  is  not  for  me  to  judge 
thee."  I  knew  from  this  how  deeply  he  sympathized 
with  me.  Indeed  what  can  the  Quaker  say  when  he 
is  told  "I  believe  this  to  be  my  duty."  To  him  the 
"inner  light"  is  the  supreme  law  and  each  must 
judge  for  himself  whither  it  leads.  The  prinicple 
may  be  disorganizing,  but  it  leads  at  least  to  toler- 
ance and  charity.  Well,  I  was  not  disowned.  In- 
deed, there  were  so  many  young  Quakers  at  that 
time  in  the  same  boat  that  to  disown  us  all  would  have 
greatly  thinned  the  ranks  of  the  Society,  and  so  just 
was  the  cause  and  so  strong  our  reasons  for  going, 
that  although  the  act  was  a  dreadful  breach  of  the 
"Discipline,"  I  fear  it  met  with  a  certain  sympathy 
and  even  tacit  approval  on  the  part  of  those  in 
authority.  The  meeting  was  much  infected  with 
the  war  spirit. 

Mother,  as  I  had  feared,  was  nearly  heartbroken 
when  she  heard  of  my  determination,  and  moved 
about  the  house  pale  and  silent  under  the  weight  of 
a  great  sorrow.  I  felt  a  keen  remorse  at  her  suf- 
fering. She  uttered  not  a  word  of  reproach,  but  I 
could  see  it  all  in  her  eyes,  which  seemed  to  say  to 
me:  "My  one  child!  the  single  joy  and  comfort  of 
my  life,  and  he  forsakes  me,  all  for  an  idea !  What 


DOROTHY  DAY  215 

to  us  are  the  wrongs  of  others — nay,  what  is  even 
our  country  that  it  should  outweigh  a  mother's 
love  IM  But  there  was  nothing  now  that  could  shake 
my  purpose. 

Then  came  again  the  thought  of  Dorothy.  What 
would  she  think?  I  called  upon  her  the  second  night 
after  my  resolution  was  taken.  She  was  alone.  We 
talked  for  some  time  about  other  things  and  then  I 
spoke  of  the  matter  rather  casually,  as  something 
in  which  perhaps  she  would  not  be  greatly  interested. 
But  she  became  instantly  very  serious.  "Do  you 
mean  it?"  she  asked,  and  when  I  assured  her  that  I 
did,  "When  do  you  go?"  I  told  her  in  a  very  few 
days,  that  the  company  in  which  I  had  determined  to 
enlist  would  leave  for  the  front  within  a  week. 
"Why  have  you  done  this?"  she  asked,  and  I 
explained  to  her  fully  why  I  believed  it  was  my 
duty.  She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
looking  at  me  with  as  bright  a  smile  as  ever  I  saw 
upon  her  face,  she  said:  "You  have  done  right;  you 
have  done  right!  Oh  how  I  wish  I  were  a  man!" 
Her  warm  sympathy  (almost  the  first  I  had  ever 
had  from  her)  was  very  grateful  to  me,  but  in  it 
there  was  not  the  least  sign  of  regret  at  parting  with 
me,  and  I  thought  as  I  walked  homeward,  "Well, 
she  has  never  loved  me,  why  should  she  care?" 
little  dreamed  what  happened  after  the  door  had 
closed  on  me  and  she  had  locked  herself  up  in  her 
own  room.  I  did  not  hear  until  long  afterwards. 


CHAPTER  II 

ARMY  LIFE 

To  a  young  man  in  the  vigor  of  health  the  first 
impressions  of  army  life  are  far  from  disagreeable. 
At  this  time  the  hot  days  had  not  yet  come,  every- 
thing was  green  with  the  freshness  of  early  summer, 
the  constant  out-of-door  existence  had  its  stimulating 
effect  upon  my  spirits,  and  I  felt  in  a  way  as  if  I 
were  beginning  the  world  over  again.  Our  camp 
near  Washington  was  situated  in  a  broad  meadow 
by  a  woodland.  The  men  in  my  company  were  for 
the  most  part  energetic,  intelligent  fellows,  and  al- 
though their  interests  in  life  had  been  quite  different 
from  my  own,  and  some  of  them  seemed  quite  igno- 
rant of  the  studies  which  had  formed  the  bulk  of 
my  education,  I  found  their  company  far  from  dis- 
agreeable. 

It  was  still  a  considerable  time  before  we  were 
actively  engaged.  To  our  great  disappointment  our 
regiment  was  detained  for  the  defense  of  Washing- 
ton, and  during  the  first  few  months  there  was  little 
to  vary  the  monotony  of  camp  life.  We  were  drilled 
a  great  deal,  but  it  appeared  to  me  that  much  energy 
was  wasted  upon  the  mere  ornamental  parts  of  the 
manual — our  wheeling  and  facing  this  way  and  that 
and  holding  our  arms  in  all  sorts  of  positions  as  if 


DOROTHY  DAY  217 

we  were  to  go  on  parade  or  review  rather  than  to 
actual  battle,  and  I  felt  sure  that  we  had  far  too  little 
target  practice  and  no  means  whatever  of  correctly 
estimating  distances  when  we  should  afterwards  be 
placed  upon  the  firing  line. 

There  are  a  good  many  things  quite  apart  from 
mere  military  evolutions  that  the  young  recruit  is 
sure  to  learn  in  camp.  He  finds,  for  example,  that 
military  service,  at  least  among  volunteer  sol- 
diers, is  in  many  ways  a  great  leveler  of  class  dis- 
tinctions. Where  all  alike  have  to  perform  menial 
duties — cooking,  digging  trenches,  cleaning  the 
camp,  etc. — social  rank  counts  for  nothing  and  mere 
book  knowledge  stands  for  very  little  except  so  far 
as  it  is  the  index  of  general  intelligence.  The  col- 
lege man  has  scarcely  any  advantage  over  the  artisan 
or  the  farmer's  boy  and  I  soon  came  to  respect  very 
highly  men  whom  I  would  hardly  have  noticed  in 
civil  life.  At  first  it  struck  me  as  remarkable  that  it 
was  often  an  uneducated  man,  one  who  could  not 
even  talk  good  English,  who  was  the  quickest  to 
learn  the  manual  and  the  most  handy  in  perform- 
ing the  unexpected  duties  which  tKe  sudden  exigencies 
of  army  life  required.  Captain  Jessup  commanded 
our  company.  He  had  received  his  commission  on 
account  of  his  father's  political  influence  with  the 
governor  and  at  first  he  was  neither  liked  nor  re- 
spected. He  was  not  merely  an  ignorant  man,  but 
seemed  to  be  one  of  less  than  ordinary  capacity.  He 
would  give  his  orders  to  us  from  the  manual  and  it 


218  DOROTHY  DAY 

was  often  plain  that  he  did  not  understand  the  text. 
Once,  seeing  in  the  book  the  direction  "Right  or 
left  oblique  (as  the  case  may  be),"  he  repeated  it 
literally,  and  roared  out  to  us  in  stentorian  tones 
the  command  "Right  or  left  oblique,  as  the  case  may 
be !  March  I"  It  is  not  easy  to  imagine  the  confusion 
resulting  from  such  leadership.  We  had  very  little 
respect  for  Jessup  until  after  the  first  battle,  when  his 
enthusiasm  and  his  superb  personal  courage  made  us 
forget  all  that  had  gone  before.  He  seemed  to  be- 
come another  man  under  fire,  and  he  led  a  charge 
upon  a  small  battery  with  such  cheers  and  oaths  and 
wild  gesticulations  that  no  man  who  was  half  a  man 
could  have  lagged  behind. 

But  I  am  anticipating.  When  the  order  came  for 
us  to  go  to  the  front,  we  were  filled  with  delight, 
and  cheer  after  cheer  went  up  from  the  regiment 
when  it  was  announced.  It  was  a  glorious  summer 
morning,  clear  and  cool,  when  we  broke  up  our 
camp.  The  dew 'had  gathered  heavily  upon  the 
grass  during  the  night  so  that  the  drops  glittered 
when  lit  by  the  early  sunbeans,  like  innumerable 
jewels;  and  still  brighter  did  the  sun  flash  from  our 
sword-bayonets  and  the  polished  barrels  of  our  rifles. 
Before  us  the  woodland  on  our  left  cast  a  long  in- 
viting shadow  across  the  road  we  were  to  take. 
Other  regiments  near  us  were  breaking  camp  at  the 
same  time,  and  one  by  one  they  fell  into  line  on  the 
broad  plain  at  our  right.  Martial  music  resounded 
through  the  air  at  intervals,  and  then  the  stirring 


DOROTHY  DAY  219 

rattle  of  the  drum  made  our  hearts  beat  fast  and 
high  with  exciting  anticipations.  The  colors  of  the 
legiment,  still  bright  and  virgin,  untouched  by  bloody 
contact  with  the  foe,  fluttered  tremulously  in  the 
light  wind,  and  the  steeds  of  the  officers  pranced  and 
caracoled  before  us  as  their  riders  shouted  their 
commands.  We  started  on  our  way  with  cheers  and 
songs,  but  when  noon  came  we  began  to  realize  the 
meaning  of  a  long  march  under  the  fierce  glare  of 
the  Southern  sun.  Our  heavy  knapsacks  became 
too  great  a  burden  and  we  began  to  throw  away  the 
treasures  we  had  stored  in  them,  the  extra  shoes  and 
blankets,  the  books,  everything  indeed  except  articles 
of  the  uttermost  necessity.  Occasionally  a  man 
would  drop  by  the  way,  overcome  with  heat  and 
weariness,  but  would  afterwards  struggle  on  again 
and  join  us  when  we  halted  for  a  meal  or  for  the 
night.  There  were  very  few  wilful  stragglers  among 
the  early  volunteers.  On  the  second  morning  we 
started  again  full  of  enthusiasm  and  it  was  not  long 
till  we  began  to  hear  shots  in  front  of  us,  at  first 
mere  desultory  firing,  then  a  more  continuous  and 
regular  rattle  of  musketry  and  the  occasional  boom- 
ing of  cannon.  Evidently  we  were  going  into  action. 
We  were  still  too  green  in  the  service  to  know  just 
what  that  meant  and  the  firing  was  too  distant  to 
give  us  any  great  uneasiness,  yet  we  became  more 
thoughtful,  we  sang  our  songs  as  on  the  previous 
day,  but  not  with  the  same  careless  joy.  Soon  we 
passed  a  field  hospital  erected  in  a  small  ravine  where 


220  DOROTHY  DAY 

the  banks  might  afford  some  protection  from  the 
enemy's  lire — and  as  we  advanced  we  began  to  meet 
the  wounded  straggling  to  the  rear.  Some  had 
their  hands  on  their  blouses  at  the  place  where  the 
ball  had  struck,  some  had  gashes  on  the  head  or 
across  the  face,  one  was  clutching  his  abdomen — a 
bad  case,  with  small  hope  of  recovery. 

We  asked  of  those  who  were  able  to  speak  with 
us  how  the  fight  was  going  and  they  answered  that 
we  were  beaten  and  that  the  slaughter  was  awful. 
This  filled  our  spirits  with  apprehension,  for  we 
had  not  yet  learned  how  prone  are  the  wounded  to 
regard  the  battle  as  lost.  Behind  these  men  came 
others,  bearing  upon  stretchers  those  who  were  too 
badly  wounded  to  walk.  These  were  covered  with 
blankets,  occasionally  even  the  head  was  concealed. 
We  would  inquire  of  the  bearers,  "Where  is  he 
wounded?"  putting  our  question  in  a  low  voice,  with 
that  involuntary  awe  which  the  presence  of  great  suf- 
fering inspires.  Generally  they  answered  us  "In 
the  knee,"  "In  the  foot,"  "In  the  shoulder";  some- 
times they  said  nothing,  but  gloomily  shook  their 
heads.  And  in  such  cases  we  knew  that  the  wound 
was  fatal.  Most  of  the  men  they  carried  were 
groaning.  One  of  them  screamed  outright.  The 
cries  of  agony  from  a  strong  man  are  pitiful  and 
unnerving,  and  soon  the  drums  began  to  beat  loudly 
and  we  could  hear  nothing  else.  That  is  their  sad 
office!  But  their  beating  could  not  stifle  the  look 
of  anguish,  the  open,  panting  mouths,  the  deathly 


DOROTHY  DAY  221 

pallor  of  the  face,  the  writhing  and  the  dripping  of 
the  blood  under  the  stretcher. 

After  the  wounded  men  had  passed,  our  songs 
began  again,  for  we  needed  them  to  keep  up  our 
spirits.  A  little  further  on,  sentinels  were  posted 
with  instructions  to  stop  every  man  going  to  the  rear 
who  could  not  show  blood,  and  the  few  stragglers 
who  attempted  to  pass  and  avoid  battle  were  driven 
back  again.  We  asked  these  sentinels  how  the  fight 
was  going.  They  answered  that  the  enemy  had 
made  an  attack  and  had  been  temporarily  repulsed, 
but  it  was  believed  he  was  receiving  reinforcements 
and  would  soon  renew  it.  We  had  come  they  said, 
just  in  time  to  fill  up  a  dangerous  gap  in  the  line. 
We  now  saw  a  regiment  emerging  from  a  large 
woodland  in  front  of  us  and  taking  position  in  a 
wheat  field  on  the  right,  and  still  other  bodies  of 
troops,  we  could  not  tell  how  many,  all  making  a 
flank  movement  in  the  same  direction.  Then  the 
order  came  that  we  were  to  occupy  and  hold  the 
woodland  they  had  left.  As  we  were  moving  for- 
ward to  take  this  position,  a  distressing  sight  con- 
fronted us.  On  each  side  of  the  road  was  a  stake- 
and-rider  fence  and  at  the  angles  lay  the  wounded 
who  had  fallen  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  who 
could  not  yet  be  taken  to  the  hospital.  Blankets 
had  been  put  across  those  angles  at  the  top  to  shel- 
ter them  from  the  fierce  sun.  Some  of  them  were 
calling  for  water  and  we  gave  it  to  them  from  our 
canteens.  A  few  of  these  men  were  in  gray.  They 


222  DOROTHY  DAY 

were  Confederates  who  had  been  left  behind  when 
their  comrades  had  been  forced  to  retreat.  One  of 
them  had  his  leg  torn  away  and  pointed  to  another 
who  was  still  more  horribly  mutilated.  He  grinned 
at  us  as  we  passed  and  cried:  "That's  what  you're 
coming  to.  You'll  catch  it  in  the  woods."  Another 
man  who  was  dying  cursed  us  as  we  went  by;  another 
maliciously  uncovered  for  us  the  face  of  a  corpse 
that  was  lying  at  his  side  and  showed  us  the  bettles 
that  were  beginning  to  gather  upon  it.  Other  dead 
men  were  scattered  along  the  road  and  in  the  fields 
that  bordered  it.  We  were  beginning  to  find  out 
now  what  war  meant.  There  was  no  more  singing. 
We  entered  the  woods  and  deployed  to  the  left, 
moving  caution  si  v.  with  rickets  thrown  out  some 
distance  in  advance.  No  enemy  was  there.  But 
there  were  manv  reminders  of  the  recent  struggle. 
The  dead  were  Iv'ncr  around  us,  not  in  any  great 
numbers,  but  distributed  irresrularlv  through  the 
forest.  A  few  of  the  wounded  who  had  been  over- 
looked were  still  there  groaning.  We  sent  for 
stretchers  and  haB  them  taken  awav.  The  pickets 
reported  that  there  was  a  stubblefield  beyond  the 
woods  rising  gradually  to  a  low  ridge,  with  a  stone 
fence  at  the  top,  and  a  negro  told  us  that  there  were 
cannon  just  beyond.  Fxcept  a  few  pickets,  no  enemy 
was  visible.  We  imagined  the  Confederates  were 
forming  behind  the  ridge,  and  our  supposition 
proved  to  be  correct.  Our  orders  were  "Hold  the 


DOROTHY  DAY  223 

woods,"  so  we  could  advance  no  further  but  were 
compelled  to  await  their  approach. 

There  was  now  a  delay  of  two  hours.  It  seemed 
like  days  to  us.  There  is  nothing  more  trying  to 
raw  troops  than  this  expectancy.  We  filled  our 
canteens  at  a  small  brook  that  ran  through  the  for- 
est, and  ate  our  hard-tack,  though  with  slender  ap- 
petites, as  we  awaited  the  inevitable. 

A  cannon  shot  in  front  of  us  announced  the  be- 
ginning of  the  attack.  Other  shots  followed  and 
in  a  moment  more  a  shell  exploded  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree.  The  tree  came  crashing  down  in  the  midst 
of  the  company,  but  no  one  was  hurt.  So  these 
shells  were  really  not  so  dangerous  as  they  seemed  1 
But  soon  another  dropped  in  our  midst.  The  man 
next  to  me  on  the  line  was  lifting  the  canteen  to 
his  lips;  he  fell  forward  with  a  groan  and  never 
spoke  again.  Death  was  now  coming  pretty  close. 
That  man  had  shared  my  tent  and  been  an  intimate 
companion  in  the  camp.  I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  cry 
"Next!"  but  I  stifled  my  agitation.  I  would  have 
given  all  I  possessed  if  I  could  have  hid  myself  in 
the  earth — all  but  my  self-respect.  I  couldn't  quite 
give  up  that,  so  I  had  to  stand  and  take  my  chances. 
There  was  no  enemy  in  sight,  no  one  to  shoot,  no 
glory,  no  honor — we  must  simply  stay  there  and 
await  our  destiny.  The  order  came:  "Lie  down!" 
"Lie  close!"  No  second  instruction  was  needed. 
We  lay  there  half  an  hour,  the  shells  crashing 
through  the  trees  not  far  away.  Not  many  of  us 


224  DOROTHY  DAY 

were  injured.  The  shells  were  badly  aimed  and 
most  of  them  fell  short.  Once  I  heard  a  horrible 
scream.  I  knew  the  voice — it  was  Downing,  of 
Company  A,  the  merriest  comrade  in  the  regiment. 
His  arm  had  been  torn  off.  I  had  ceased  to  care  for 
the  shells,  but  the  shriek  unnerved  me.  It  is  a  bad 
thing  to  hear  a  scream  like  that !  At  last  the  sounds 
of  cannonading  died  and  we  began  to  hope  the 
enemy  had  given  up  his  purpose.  But  the  pickets 
came  running  in  and  cried:  "They  are  charging  the 
wood,  a  whole  brigade  is  coming!"  Still  we  could 
see  nobody. 

It  seemed  to  me  then  that  a  mistake  had  been 
made  in  thus  posting  us  in  the  middle  of  the  forest. 
If  we  had  been  at  the  edge  of  the  wood  we  could 
have  seen  the  approaching  forces  as  they  crossed  the 
field  and  could  have  decimated  their  ranks  from 
our  concealment  while  they  were  in  the  open,  but 
among  the  trees  we  could  only  fight  them  on  equal 
terms  from  such  shelter  as  each  man  could  make  for 
himself.  As  I  think  of  it  now,  however,  our  colonel 
had  done  better  than  we  knew,  for  the  enemy  had 
supposed  we  were  close  to  the  open  field  when  he 
shattered  the  edge  of  the  woods  with  his  artillery 
and  left  us  almost  unharmed  beyond.  We  could 
now  hear  what  seemed  an  innumerable  multitude 
yelling  like  wild  beasts  as  they  burst  into  the  forest. 
This  was  the  trying  moment  for  us.  Would  we 
stand  or  flee?  No  man  quite  knows  beforehand 
what  he  will  do.  Was  it  courage  that  kept  us  in 


DOROTHY  DAY  225 

our  places,  or  was  it  the  greater  fear  of  disgrace? 
We  heard  the  voice  of  our  colonel  as  if  he  were 
managing  an  unruly  horse :  "Steady !  boys,  steady  1" 
and  no  one  broke  the  ranks.  We  had  stood  the  first 
great  test.  Each  man,  however,  sought  the  pro- 
tection of  some  tree  or  boulder  or  fallen  log  and 
held  his  gun  in  readiness,  awaiting  the  approach  of 
the  foe.  The  underbrush  was  thick  and  the  enemy 
could  no  longer  advance  with  speed.  Now  for  the 
first  time  we  began  to  see  the  gray-coats.  We  took 
aim  with  care,  and  though  our  marksmanship  was 
none  of  the  best,  a  good  many  of  them  dropped  be- 
fore our  fire.  Then  they  stopped  and  sought  shelter 
as  we  had  done,  and  each  man  for  himself  did  what 
mischief  he  could  to  his  antagonist.  The  aim  on 
both  sides  was  too  high,  and  we  could  see  the  twigs 
and  leaves  and  small  branches  dropping  everywhere 
as  if  shaken  by  an  autumn  wind.  Soon  the  smoke 
became  dense  and  it  was  only  for  an  instant  when 
it  would  drift  away  that  we  could  fire  with  any 
effect,  but  that  moment  was  the  time  of  greatest 
danger  to  ourselves.  We  could  still  hear  occasion- 
ally the  cries  of  a  wounded  man,  but  we  paid  less 
attention  to  this  than  at  first;  we  were  too  busy 
with  our  own  work  of  destruction.  I  even  thought, 
"This  is  by  no  means  as  bad  as  I  have  pictured  it," 
and  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  great  battle  paintings 
I  had  seen  were  much  exaggerated.  The  time  came, 
however,  when  no  picture  nor  description  nor  dream 
could  outstrip  the  reality.  But  that  was  afterwards. 


226  DOROTHY  DAY 

The  firing  in  the  woods  lasted  perhaps  half  an 
hour.  In  the  meanwhile  we  could  hear  a  sharp 
engagement  going  on  in  the  wheat  field  at  our  right 
and  the  sound  of  cheering  which  appeared  to  ad- 
vance. I  could  begin  to  tell  the  difference  between 
the  short,  sharp  rebel  yell  and  the  prolonged  cheer  of 
our  own  men.  Evidently  our  troops  there  were 
driving  back  the  Confederates,  and  this  continued 
until  the  line  in  front  of  us,  being  outflanked,  and 
the  position  no  longer  tenable,  our  assailants  began 
to  withdraw.  We  pressed  on  after  them,  firing  as 
rapidly  as  we  could,  and  I  noticed  that  more  of  their 
number  were  killed  in  the  retreat  than  while  they 
were  facing  us.  So  it  was  really  more  dangerous 
to  withdraw  than  to  advance !  It  is  a  good  thing  for 
a  soldier  to  learn  that  lesson  early. 

At  the  edge  of  the  wood  we  halted,  and  looking 
up  to  the  stone  wall  on  the  crest  of  the  ridge  in  front 
of  us  over  which  the  gray-coats  were  now  passing, 
we  realized  that  behind  it  must  be  the  battery  which 
had  opened  the  engagement.  We  rushed  forward 
at  once  to  charge  it.  And  here  it  was  that  Captain 
Jessup's  wild  fury  communicated  its  contagion  to 
us,  and  redeemed  him  in  our  eyes.  We  captured 
only  one  gun,  which  could  not  be  limbered  in  time 
to  escape  us.  We  saw  the  rest  going  off  at  a  gallop 
as  we  crossed  the  wall.  We  had  no  orders  to  ad- 
vance further,  so  we  remained  where  we  were.  And 
now  the  wind  rose  suddenly,  we  heard  behind  us  a 
warning  sound  of  dreadful  portent,  and  looking  back 


DOROTHY  DAY  227 

saw  that  the  woods  were  on  fire  and  that  a  terrible 
calamity  must  await  the  men  who  had  fallen  in  the 
timber.  The  shells  which  had  exploded  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  engagement  had  ignited  the  under- 
brush in  several  places.  Those  fire  were  small,  and 
nobody  notice  them  amid  the  smoke  and  excitement 
of  the  fight  and  it  was  some  time  before  they  spread. 
At  last  when  the  wind  rose,  the  fire  caught  the  large 
trees  and  the  edge  of  the  forest  became  a  sheet  of 
flame.  Wounded  men  who  could  not  extricate  them- 
selves were  lying  just  beyond.  They  shrieked  in 
terror  and  agony  as  the  flames  swept  towards  them, 
but  we  could  not  reach  them  and  they  were  stifled 
with  smoke  and  burned  to  a  cinder  before  our  eyes. 
Most  of  them  were  Confederates,  but  a  few  were 
our  own  comrades.  As  soon  as  we  could  enter  the 
woods  we  sought  the  charred  remains  and  gave  them 
burial. 

We  bivouacked  on  the  stubblefield  that  night. 
Our  enthusiasm  was  gone,  but  a  more  determined 
feeling,  perhaps  quite  as  valuable  in  a  soldier's 
makeup  had  taken  its  place.  We  had  behaved  with 
credit  in  our  first  fight.  The  action  had  been  one 
of  no  great  importance  and  would  hardly  be  recalled 
now  among  the  battles  of  the  war,  but  we  had  been 
successful  and  had  acquired  some  of  that  confidence 
that  comes  with  success.  Afterwards  we  were  not 
always  so  fortunate.  For  a  long  time  we  were  more 
often  on  the  retreat  than  on  the  advance.  And 
the  repeated  defeats  on  the  Peninsula,  at  Manassas, 


228  DOROTHY  DAY 

Fredericksburg,  and  Chancellorsville,  scarcely  re- 
deemed by  the  indecisive  victories  of  South  Moun- 
tain and  Antietam,  tried  our  souls  greatly,  before 
the  tide  began  to  turn  in  our  favor. 


CHAPTER  III 

SOLDIERLY  CHARACTERISTICS 

I  SHALL  not  relate  in  detail  the  history  of  all  our 
campaigns  but  merely  refer  to  the  few  incidents 
that  mark  the  changes  in  character  that  come  with 
a  soldier's  experience.  Naturally  the  value  of  hu- 
man life,  so  great  in  times  of  peace,  was  little  re- 
garded. Death  was  so  common  among  us  that  we 
thought  lightly  of  it.  There  was  of  course  a  pang 
when  one  comrade  after  another  was  missing  at  the 
campfire  or  failed  to  report  at  roll-call,  but  we  had 
too  much  on  hand  to  allow  us  to  spend  our  time  in 
grieving,  and  we  might  ourselves  "turn  up  our  toes" 
before  another  sundown.  What  difference  who 
went  first  or  who  went  last?  Yet  our  duty  no  less 
than  our  safety  required  of  us  that  we  should  not 
expose  ourselves  rashly  and  we  became  more  and 
more  careful  as  our  experience  in  the  service  ad- 
vanced, to  take  no  unnecessary  risk  but  to  protect 
ourselves  in  whatever  way  we  could  from  hostile 
fire.  Indeed  this  caution  was  often  mistaken  by 
some  of  the  new  recruits  for  timidity  and  we  would 
sometimes  see  a  contemptuous  smile  on  their  faces 
while  they  were  exposing  themselves  out  of  mere 
bravado  to  needless  dangers.  Many  was  the  sharp 
reproof  we  gave  them  for  their  temerity  and  those 


23o  DOROTHY  DAY 

who  survived  grew  to  be  careful  like  ourselves  as 
time  went  by. 

Doubtless  there  were  occasions  when  our  patriot- 
ism flagged,  when  we  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
been  away  from  the  terrible  scenes  we  were  forced 
each  day  to  witness,  but  this  was  rather  a  fleeting 
impulse  than  a  deep  conviction,  and  there  were  very 
few  moments  when,  if  the  matter  were  calmly  con- 
sidered we  would  not  have  enlisted  again,  with  the 
full  knowledge  of  all  that  was  before  us.  War  is 
a  dreadful  thing,  but  there  is  no  better  touchstone 
for  ascertaining  how  great  is  a  man's  love  for  his 
country. 

If  life  became  of  little  importance  in  our  eyes, 
naturally  the  subordinate  right  of  property  was  often 
wholly  disregarded.  Fences,  barns,  dwellings, 
crops;  all  were  destroyed  with  impunity  when  they 
interfered  with  military  operations  or  when  they 
might  be  used  to  shelter  or  maintain  the  enemy.  At 
first  this  seemed  hard  upon  the  suffering  population 
of  the  country,  but  soon  we  thought  no  more  of  it. 
First  of  all  came  our  own  natural  right  as  it  ap- 
peared to  us,  to  such  food  as  we  needed.  We  were 
generally  hungry,  and  if  our  haversacks  were  empty, 
the  bacon  and  corn  and  chickens  that  we  found  had 
to  supply  our  needs.  We  paid  for  them  when  we 
could — if  not,  they  were  not  paid  for.  I  remember 
my  horror  when  I  first  saw  the  bodies  of  the  dead 
rifled  upon  the  field.  Yet  it  was  not  long  until  I  was 
filling  my  cartridge  box  and  haversack  with  am- 


DOROTHY  DAY  231 

munition  and  rations  in  the  same  ghoulish  fashion, 
or  exchanging  my  shoes  or  my  blanket  for  something 
better  that  the  owner  would  no  longer  need.  Why 
not?  The  service  gained  rather  than  lost  by  such 
appropriation. 

But  if  our  moral  sense  concerning  rights  of 
property  was  somewhat  blunted,  there  was  one 
virtue  that  we  held  in  far  greater  esteem  than 
civilians.  The  good  soldier  must  be  a  man  who  has 
no  fear.  This  quality  of  courage  we  respected  as 
much  in  an  enemy  as  in  a  friend.  Once  when  we 
had  charged  a  battery,  the  driver  of  one  of  the  gun 
carriages  had  been  unable  to  bring  off  his  piece  be- 
fore we  came  up.  He  was  just  starting  with  it  as 
we  arrived.  We  pointed  our  muskets  at  his  head  not 
two  yards  away  and  ordered  him  to  surrender.  He 
paid  not  the  slightest  attention,  but  whipped  his  horses 
and  started.  His  courage  was  so  superb  in  the  face 
of  inevitable  death  that  we  could  not  fire  and  actually 
allowed  him  to  drive  his  gun  away.  Bad  soldiery 
this,  no  doubt,  but  our  admiration  stifled  every  other 
feeling  and  we  cheered  him  as  he  escaped  us. 

In  other  cases  we  were  more  cruel  than  the  laws 
of  war  allowed.  A  sharpshooter  had  been  firing  at 
our  men  from  the  crotch  of  a  tree  where  he  had 
been  hidden  and  protected  by  the  trunk.  He  had 
killed  one  of  our  lieutenants  whom  we  greatly  loved 
and  had  wounded  two  other  men.  When  we  came 
close  to  him  he  dropped  his  rifle,  threw  up  his  arms 
and  cried :  "I  surrender."  Doubtless  our  duty  was 


232  DOROTHY  DAY 

to  let  him  come  down  and  make  him  our  prisoner. 
But  we  were  too  furious  for  this.  Half  a  dozen 
balls  went  crashing  through  his  skull  and  he  dropped 
heavily  on  the  ground  at  our  feet. 

We  could  not  but  admire  the  bitter  disdain  with 
which  the  high-bred  Southern  women  met  us  at 
the  doorways  of  their  plantation  homes  when  we 
sought  water  at  the  well  or  provisions  from  the 
garden  or  the  farm-yard,  and  the  scorn  with  which 
the  girls  watched  us  pass  through  the  streets  of  their 
villages  and  towns  on  our  errand  of  destruction. 
Though  we  would  gladly  have  had  a  smile  or  a 
friendly  greeting,  I  am  not  sure  but  we  thought  the 
more  of  them  for  hating  the  enemies  of  their  friends 
and  kindred  and  for  looking  through  us  and  over 
us  without  a  word  or  sign  of  recognition. 

The  gray-coats  themselves  bore  us  no  such  per- 
sonal animosity.  When  they  lay  wounded  side  by 
side  with  our  men  there  was  little  difference  be- 
tween the  help  they  would  extend  to  an  enemy  or  a 
comrade  in  reaching  some  protecting  tree  or  log, 
or  in  sharing  their  tobacco,  or  the  contents  of  their 
canteens  and  haversacks.  Beneath  the  contemptuous 
epithets  of  "Yank"  and  "Reb"  there  lurked  a  silent 
comradeship  borne  of  mutual  respect,  of  common 
dangers,  and  of  common  sufferings.  Except  when 
our  passions  were  aroused  by  some  immediate  out- 
rage, our  feeling  for  the  men  in  the  enemy's  ranks 
was  not  personally  hostile,  and  the  desire  at  one 


DOROTHY  DAY  233 

moment  to  kill,  and  the  next  to  succor,  seemed  as 
natural  as  the  change  from  cloud  to  sunshine. 

The  negroes  that  we  saw  on  the  plantations  did 
not  appear  half  as  eager  for  their  freedom  as  T 
had  imagined.  They  did  not  rush  to  us  and  ask 
protection  or  seek  to  escape  under  the  shelter  of 
our  presence,  but  commonly  kept  on  at  their  work 
as  if  no  war  existed  and  no  emancipation  was  in 
sight.  True,  they  were  always  friendly,  they  would 
give  us  what  they  could  of  their  little  stores,  some- 
times going  hungry  themselves  that  we  might  have 
a  hoe-cake,  and  supplying  us  with  correct  informa- 
tion as  to  the  position  and  doings  of  the  enemy  and 
other  things — except  one.  We  found  that  no 
negro  would  betray  his  master  or  his  master's 
family.  Was  this  affection,  was  it  fear,  or  the 
mere  habit  of  servitude?  No  doubt  there  were 
varied  ingredients  in  this  fidelity.  But  faithful  he 
was  and  kind,  and  now  after  the  lapse  of  forty 
years  I  am  reluctant  to  believe  the  stories  of  the 
wild  passions  of  a  savage  race  that  threaten  the 
homes  of  the  South  and  require  the  halter,  the 
torch  and  the  mad  fury  of  a  lawless  mob  for  the 
protection  of  the  women  and  children. 

Heaven  knows  it  was  no  love  of  glory,  no  mere 
ambition  that  had  drawn  me  to  the  war.  I  had 
enlisted  as  a  private  soldier,  though  T  might  well 
have  had  a  lieutenant's  commission  if  T  had  sought 
the  necessary  "influence"  to  procure  it.  Yet  once 
in  the  fie!d  T  had  a  strong  desire  to  distinguish  my- 


234  DOROTHY  DAY 

self  and  win  promotion  and  fame,  not  so  much  for 
my  personal  satisfaction  as  on  account  of  Dorothy, 
whose  image  followed  me  everywhere,  in  the  camp, 
on  the  march,  in  the  fight,  and  amid  the  sickening 
scenes  of  the  field  hospital,  and  stimulated  me  to  the 
performance  of  my  duty. 

Our  last  interview,  when  she  had  spoken  with 
such  approval  of  my  going  to  the  war,  had  filled 
me  with  the  most  intense  determination  to  act  with 
credit.  After  our  first  battle  I  received  by  mail  a 
copy  of  the  New  York  Tribune  in  which  the  conduct 
of  our  regiment  was  highly  praised.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  address  had  been  written  by  her,  though 
the  characters  were  different  from  those  of  her 
ordinary  handwriting  and  looked  as  though  they 
had  been  made  by  an  unsteady  hand.  There  was 
no  explanation  nor  did  I  hear  from  her  in  any  other 
way.  My  mother  wrote  me  that  the  Days  had 
closed  their  house  in  the  city  but  she  did  not  know 
where  they  had  gone.  I  was  sure  that  however 
little  affection  Dorothy  might  have  for  me,  she 
would  certainly  have  a  friendly  sympathy  and  pride 
in  my  achievements,  and  that  she  would  be  disap- 
pointed and  humiliated  if  I  failed.  So  I  wanted  an 
opportunity  to  win  what  laurels  I  could.  On  the 
death  of  Coporal  Fletcher,  at  the  battle  of  Seven 
Pines,  I  was  promoted  to  his  place.  At  South  Moun- 
tain I  became  sergeant,  and  after  Chancellorsville 
(where  we  had  rendered  important  service  at  the 
time  when  Stonewall  Jackson  was  killed),  I  received 


DOROTHY  DAY  235 

a  lieutenant's  commission.  I  was  tempted  to  write 
to  Dorothy  and  tell  her  of  my  good  fortune,  but  I 
refrained.  Experience  had  made  me  very  shy  of 
saying  anything  to  her  in  praise  of  my  own  achieve- 
ments. 

But  there  was  one  drawback  to  the  inspiration 
of  Dorothy's  image  in  my  thoughts.  It  added  ten- 
fold to  my  fear  of  mutilation.  How  could  I  face 
her,  a  cripple,  mangled,  torn,  like  the  hundreds  I 
had  seen  after  every  battle,  with  God's  image  all 
but  obliterated?  It  is  said  that  very  few  soldiers 
go  into  an  engagement  without  a  presentiment  that 
this  time  they  are  to  fall.  The  presentiment  of  death 
I  did  not  have,  because  I  cared  little  for  it,  but  the 
presentiment  of  some  dreadful  wound  constantly 
beset  me.  Where  would  the  ball  strike?  Would  it 
be  here  in  my  hand,  or  on  the  leg,  or  on  the  face; 
and  as  I  wondered,  the  frightful  image  rose  before 
me  of  a  man  borne  by  on  a  stretcher  with  grinning 
teeth  gaping  from  a  cheek  that  had  been  torn  away ! 
It  was  the  spectre  of  that  face,  side  by  side  with 
Dorothy's  that  haunted  me  as  I  slept  in  our  bivouack 
before  the  battle,  and  stood  by  me  while  we  awaited 
the  enemy's  attack,  until  my  breath  was  stifled  and 
the  sweat  came  dripping  from  every  pore.  Yet 
through  it  all  I  trained  myself  not  to  flinch  and  never 
to  dodge  the  balls  that  whistled  by,  which  is,  indeed, 
an  unnecessary  precaution  after  the  danger  is  over, 
but  still  one  as  natural  and  almost  as  hard  to  avoid 
as  not  to  close  your  eyelids  when  an  insect  flies 


236  DOROTHY  DAY 

against  your  eye.  No  one  ever  imagined  the  tor- 
ments I  suffered  from  the  fear  of  bringing  my 
mutilated  body  into  the  presence  of  the  woman  I 
loved.  If  such  a  fate  should  befall  me  I  thought 
often  of  suicide.  I  could  not  quite  make  up  my 
mind  to  that,  but  of  one  thing  at  least  I  grew  deter- 
mined. In  such  an  event  Dorothy  should  never  see 
me  again.  I  would  flee  to  the  ends  of  the  earth 
before  I  would  permit  her  to  gaze  upon  such  a 
presence. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  INVASION  OF  PENNSYLVANIA  , 

•    • 

THOSE  who  belong  to  a  later  generation  and  merely 
know  of  the  Civil  War  from  the  record  of  it  as  em- 
bodied in  history,  will  find  it  hard  to  realize  the 
fatuous  disbelief  that  prevailed  throughout  the 
North  in  the  seriousness  of  the  struggle  in  which 
we  were  engaged.  This  incredulity  continued  from 
the  time  of  the  political  campaign  that  ended  in  the 
election  of  Lincoln  down  to  the  very  midst  of  the 
great  war.  The  threats  of  secession  were  regarded 
as  idle  vaporings.  Why  should  the  Union  be  dis- 
solved because  an  unacceptable  candidate  had  been 
lawfully  elected?  When  South  Carolina  called  her 
convention  we  felt  sure  that  after  it  met,  wiser  coun- 
sels would  prevail.  When  the  ordinance  was 
adopted  there  was  little  fear  that  other  States  would 
be  fanatical  enough  to  follow  her  example.  Even 
after  the  Confederate  Government  was  organized  at 
Montgomery,  we  felt  that  surely  they  would  not  be 
so  mad  as  to  fire  upon  the  flag!  When  Sumter  fell 
and  the  horrible  reality  dawned  upon  us  that  war, 
the  impossible,  had  come,  still  we  were  consoled  by 
the  belief  that  it  would  be  quickly  over.  What  was 
the  power  of  the  Gulf  States  and  the  Carolinas  by 
the  side  of  the  inexhaustible  resources  of  the  North? 


23  8  DOROTHY  DAY 

Virginia  would  reject  the  ordinance  of  secession  and 
remain  faithful  to  the  Union.  When  Virginia  joined 
her  sisters  of  the  South  and  the  capital  of  Virginia 
became  the  capital  of  the  Confederacy,  then  it 
seemed  to  us  that  it  would  be  all  the  easier  to  crush 
a  rebellion  whose  vital  point  was  thus  thrust  for- 
ward within  such  ready  reach  of  our  advancing 
hosts'.  "On  to  Richmond!"  was  the  chorus  of  the 
Northern  press,  and  no  one  doubted  that  in  a  few 
weeks  the  head  of  the  Confederacy  would  fall. 

A  rude  awakening  came  with  the  defeat  at  Bull 
Run  and  the  mad  panic  that  ensued.  "The  Capture 
of  Washington"  was  cried  through  the  streets  of 
the  metropolis  day  after  day  by  boys  who  sold  to 
excited  crowds  extra  editions  of  the  evening  papers. 
But  the  panic  passed  and  the  confidence  which  fol- 
lowed was  scarcely  less  serene  and  certain  than  at 
first.  All  that  was  needed  was  that  the  North 
should  be  aroused  and  the  army  organized,  so  Mc- 
Clellan,  the  great  "organizer,"  began  his  task.  The 
work  went  on  much  slower  than  seemed  necessary, 
but  at  last  all  was  ready  and  the  Peninsular  cam- 
paign began.  Victories  were  announced  at  York- 
town,  at  Williamsburg,  at  Seven  Pines.  Nothing 
more  natural,  nothing  more  inevitable  than  this. 
The  army  was  already  close  to  Richmond,  a  day  or 
two  more  and  all  would  be  ended  and  the  flag  float 
again  over  a  united  nation.  Then  came  the  report 
of  the  final  seven  days'  struggle  and  the  retreat  to 
the  James  River.  Still  even  this  was  at  first  merely 


DOROTHY  DAY  239 

a  "change  of  base,"  and  it  was  a  hard  task  to  con- 
vince the  people  of  the  North  that  the  campaign 
was,  a  failure  and  that  the  work  had  to  be  begun 
again.  Indeed  they  refused  to  believe  that  the  de- 
feat was  serious.  It  was  merely  McClellan  who 
would  not  fight.  Give  them  a  new  man  and  all 
would  be  well.  So  Pope  was  brought  from  the  West 
and  put  in  command.  His  first  orders  showed  the 
stuff  he  was  made  of!  There  was  to  be  no  more 
talk  of  lines  of  retreat  and  bases  of  supply.  From 
that  time  it  was  to  be  a  forward  march  I  But  the 
second  defeat  of  Manassas  was  as  bad  as  the  first, 
so  McClellan  was  again  put  in  command,  and  while 
the  invasion  of  the  enemy  into  Maryland  was 
checked  at  Antietam,  all  aggressive  movements  were 
futile  and  McClellan  was  again  relieved.  Burn- 
side's  repulse  at  Fredericksburg  and  Hooker's  de- 
feat at  Chancellorsville  showed  the  superiority  of 
Lee's  generalship,  if  not  the  superiority  of  the  Con- 
federate soldier.  We  who  were  at  the  front  real- 
ized far  sooner  than  those  at  home  the  terrible  na- 
ture of  the  conflict  in  which  we  were  involved;  but 
very  few,  either  at  home  or  at  the  front,  anticipated 
the  formidable  invasion  of  the  free  States  and  the 
campaign  which  reached  its  climax  in  the  terrible 
struggle  at  Gettysburg. 

There  were  several  reasons  which  determined 
the  Confederate  authorities  to  this  daring  step. 
Their  resources  were  limited  and  were  becoming 
exhausted;  they  could  not  suffer  the  war  to  drag  on 


24o  DOROTHY  DAY 

indefinitely.  Grant  was  closing  slowly  around  Vicks- 
burg,  and  it  was  necessary,  by  a  brilliant  victory  in 
the  East,  to  force  the  recall  of  his  army,  or  at  least 
to  offset  the  impending  disaster  on  the  Mississippi. 
On  the  other  hand,  great  disaffection  existed  in  the 
North;  there  was  a  strong  party  opposed  to  the  war; 
the  terms  of  enlistment  of  a  large  number  of  troops 
was  about  to  expire;  volunteering  had  ceased  in  con- 
sequence of  repeated  disasters  and  a  conscription 
might  provoke  armed  resistance.  Moreover  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  was  still  under  the  command 
of  a  general  who  with  an  overwhelming  force  had 
failed  miserably.  Now,  therefore,  was  the  time 
for  the  Confederacy  to  strike.  But  how?  The 
army  under  Hooker  lay  between  Lee  and  the  city 
of  Washington  in  a  strong  position.  It  must  be 
drawn  out  of  its  intrenchments  and  encountered  in 
the  open  field.  What  better  means  of  accomplishing 
this  purpose  than  an  invasion  of  the  North?  This 
would  relieve  Virginia  from  a  hostile  army.  As  the 
rations  of  the  Confederate  troops  were  running 
short,  Lee  could  replenish  them  in  the  fertile  regions 
of  Pennsylvania,  or  by  the  occupation  of  some  of 
the  wealthy  cities  of  the  North.  A  victory  there 
might  cause  even  the  evacuation  of  the  Federal 
capital.  Moreover  our  relations  with  foreign 
powers  were  critical;  if  Lee  could  establish  him- 
self on  Northern  soil,  England  might  recognize  the 
Confederacy,  ample  loans  could  be  obtained  and 
perhaps  a  foreign  alliance  formed  and  a  fleet  sent 


DOROTHY  DAY  241 

to  open  the  ports  of  the  South.  If  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  could  be  destroyed  Southern  independence 
would  be  achieved. 

There  was,  indeed,  one  drawback;  the  long  line 
of  communications  between  Richmond  and  the  Con- 
federate army  would  be  imperiled.  Lee  might  pro- 
cure forage  even  if  this  line  were  severed  but  the 
constant  supplies  of  necessary  ammunition  could  not 
be  obtained  on  Northern  soil.  This  was  the  vital 
danger. 

But  it  was  resolved  to  take  the  risk.  Lee  left 
his  position  at  Fredericksburg  and  moved  with  his 
army  up  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  The  Blue  Ridge 
on  the  east  protected  him  from  attack  and  observa- 
tion, for  the  gaps  in  the  mountains  were  easy  to  hold 
and  fortify.  General  Milroy  was  at  Winchester  in 
this  valley  with  a  garrison  of  Union  soldiers,  but 
owing  to  a  series  of  blunders  he  was  quickly  de- 
feated and  the  pathway  to  the  North  was  cleared. 

In  the  latter  part  of  June,  Lee  crossed  the  Poto- 
mac, passed  rapidly  through  Maryland,  and  keeping 
to  the  west  of  the  South  Mountain  range,  which 
formed  the  continuation  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  he  in- 
vaded the  Keystone  State.  His  army  consisted  of 
three  corps  commanded  by  Ewell,  Hill  and  Long- 
street,  respectively.  On  the  27th,  Ewell  reached 
Carlisle,  while  Early,  commanding  one  of  his  divi- 
sions, had  seized  York.  On  the  same  day  the  corps 
of  Longstreet  and  Hill  reached  Chambersburg  and 
its  vicinity,  under  the  immediate  command  of  Lee 


242  DOROTHY  DAY 

himself.  Nowhere  was  there  any  serious  opposition. 

There  was,  of  course,  great  excitement  in  the 
North,  levies  of  troops  were  made  everywhere  and 
many  regiments  of  militia  were  hurried  forward. 
But  what  could  these  do  against  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia? 

Hooker  had  received  early  information  that  Lee 
was  disappearing  from  his  front  and  was  marching 
down  the  Shenandoah,  so  he  determined  to  follow, 
keeping  east  of  the  Blue  Ridge  and  South  Moun- 
tain, and  thus  holding  the  inside  lines  between  Lee 
and  the  city  of  Washington.  He  crossed  the  Poto- 
mac a  few  days  after  Lee,  and  made  his  headquar- 
ters at  the  city  of  Frederick  in  Maryland. 

In  consequence  of  his  inexcusable  failure  at  Chan- 
cellorsville,  the  confidence  of  the  administration  in 
his  generalship  was  greatly  impaired.  He  was, 
moreover,  on  bad  terms  with  Halleck,  the  general 
in  chief  of  all  the  armies.  He  now  asked  Halleck 
to  let  him  take  the  garrison  at  Harper's  Ferry  to 
reinforce  his  troops.  But  Halleck  objected,  where- 
upon Hooker  at  once  offered  his  resignation.  In 
spite  of  the  president's  aphorism,  "It  is  a  bad  thing 
to  swap  horses  while  crossing  a  stream,"  it  was  de- 
termined to  make  the  change  at  once,  even  in  the 
immediate  prospect  of  an  impending  battle.  George 
G.  Meade,  the  commander  of  the  Fifth  Corps,  was 
selected  as  Hooker's  successor,  and  ordered  to  as- 
sume the  command.  He  earnestly  protested,  but  no 
discretion  was  given  him  and  he  obeyed. 


DOROTHY  DAY  243 

Meade's  position  was  indeed  one  of  extraordinary 
difficulty.  He  had  no  time  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  troops  he  was  to  command  nor  even  to 
learn  the  details  of  their  organization.  He  first 
proposed  to  to  review  and  concentrate  them  at  Fred- 
erick, but  it  was  shown  to  him  that  the  delay  would 
give  Lee  time  to  cross  the  Susquehanna  and  capture 
Harrisburg,  so  he  was  forced  to  act  immediately 
even  though  he  had  to  act  in  the  dark;  and  Hooker's 
plans  were,  with  some  modifications,  adopted.  It 
was  determined  to  interpose  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac between  the  enemy  and  Philadelphia  if  Lee 
went  north,  or  between  him  and  Baltimore  and 
Washington,  in  case  he  turned  southward. 

The  two  armies  were  now  on  the  eve  of  the  deci- 
sive battle  of  the  war,  and  it  will  be  interesting  to 
consider  and  to  contrast  for  a  moment  the  com- 
manding generals,  their  immediate  subordinates  and 
the  number,  organization  and  character  of  the 
troops. 

The  Confederate  army  was  commanded  by 
Robert  E.  Lee,  the  most  skilful  general  of  the  Civil 
War.  He  was  at  this  time  fifty-seven  years  of  age, 
tall,  dignified,  serene,  aristocratic,  tactful,  brave, 
chivalric,  God-fearing,  conscientious  to  a  fault,  and 
generally  sound  in  judgment.  He  was  deeply  be- 
loved by  all  who  knew  him  and  he  was  the  idol  of 
the  army  he  commanded.  When  they  discussed 
around  their  campfires  "the  origin  of  the  species," 
it  was  said,  "the  rest  of  us  may  come  from  monkeys, 


244  DOROTHY  DAY 

but  it  needed  a  God  to  make  Marse  Robert."  Even 
before  the  Civil  War  his  career  had  been  brilliant. 
He  was  a  distinguished  officer  in  the  Mexican  war, 
repeatedly  brevetted  for  skill  and  gallantry.  He 
had  filled  the  office  of  Superintendent  of  the  Military 
Academy  at  West  Point  with  ability.  He  was  at 
first  opposed  to  secession,  but  after  Virginia  severed 
her  connection  with  the  Union,  although  Lincoln 
offered  him  the  supreme  command  of  the  army,  he 
cast  his  lot  with  his  native  State  and  resigned  from 
the  Federal  service.  In  the  early  campaigns  in  West 
Virginia  he  was  not  successful;  but  he  afterwards 
became  the  military  adviser  of  President  Davis,  and 
when  General  Jos.  E.  Johnston  was  wounded  at 
Seven  Pines,  Lee  was  given  the  command  of  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  Calling  to  his  aid 
the  redoubtable  Stonewall  Jackson,  he  defeated  the 
Federal  troops  in  several  great  battles  in  his  native 
State.  His  prestige  was  unbounded.  He  had,  how- 
ever, as  a  military  man,  two  faults — his  modesty 
was  such  that  he  lacked  self-assertion,  that  despotic 
quality  which  compels  obedience  and  fear  and  exacts 
the  utmost  from  subordinates;  he  left  too  much  to 
the  discretion  of  his  corps  commanders.  He  had 
another  defect :  "a  subdued  excitement  occasionally 
took  possession  of  him  when  the  hunt  was  up,  which 
threatened  his  superb  equipoise,"  and  which,  in  the 
presence  of  the  enemy  in  an  aggressive  campaign, 
sometimes  led  him  to  headlong  combativeness  in 
the  field.  When  he  invaded  Pennsylvania  he  was 


DOROTHY  DAY  245 

overconfident  even  to  rashness  of  the  invincible 
power  of  his  own  troops.  Little  wonder  indeed 
when  he  had  seen  them  at  Manassas,  at  Fredericks- 
burg,  at  Chancellorsville,  triumphant  against  such 
overwhelming  odds. 

On  the  Union  side  the  commander-in-chief  was  a 
man  of  no  such  splendid  presence  nor  brilliant  his- 
tory. George  G.  Meade  was  of  a  stooping  figure, 
tall,  spectacled,  short-sighted,  resembling  a  scholar 
rather  than  a  soldier.  His  training,  like  that  of  Lee, 
had  been  mainly  as  an  engineer.  He  had  served  in 
the  Seminole  war  and  then  in  Mexico  though  in  an 
humbler  station  than  his  great  adversary.  He  took 
a  subordinate  part  in  the  campaign  in  the  Peninsula. 
At  Manassas  he  commanded  a  brigade;  at  Fred- 
ericksburg  he  led  a  division;  at  Chancellorsville  he 
commanded  the  Fifth  Corps.  He  was  a  man  just, 
reasonable  and  brave,  but  he  was  excessively  modest 
and  over-cautious  in  directing  his  troops.  He  took 
command  under  enormous  disadvantages  and  the 
result  of  the  campaign  showed  that,  on  the  whole, 
he  commanded  well. 

It  was  quite  fitting  that  the  defense  of  Pennsyl- 
vania should  have  been  confided  so  largely  to  the 
soldiers  of  that  commonwealth,  led  by  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  her  generals,  for  besides  Meade,  both 
Reynolds  and  Hancock  were  from  the  Keystone 
State.  With  such  men  and  with  Slocum,  Sedgwick 
and  Doubleday  in  command  of  corps,  with  Pleasan- 
ton  and  Buford  in  the  cavalry,  and  Hunt  in  control 


246  DOROTHY  DAY 

of  the  artillery,  the  efforts  of  the  commander-in- 
chief  were  in  the  main  ably  seconded. 

When  "Stonewall"  Jackson  was  killed  at  Chan- 
cellorsville,  the  right  arm  of  the  Confederacy  was 
broken.  In  Longstreet,  Ewell  and  Hill,  the  com- 
manders of  the  three  corps  of  three  divisions  each 
into  which  his  army  was  now  divided  (in  place  of 
the  two  which  had  been  led  by  Longstreet  and  Jack- 
son), Lee  had,  indeed,  men  of  experience  and  ability, 
but  Ewell  and  Hill  could  ill  take  the  place  of  the 
great  Jackson.  Longstreet,  whom  Lee  effectionately 
called  his  "old  war  horse,"  was  a  tenacious  and  ex- 
cellent fighter,  but  slow  in  movement  and  he  lacked 
the  sure  instinct  of  Jackson  in  seizing  at  once  the 
decisive  opportunity  of  the  battle. 

The  size  of  the  two  armies  at  Gettysburg  will 
never  be  exactly  known.  The  best  estimates  give 
Meade  a  little  over  90,000  men  with  300  guns,  and 
Lee  a  little  over  70,000  men  with  190  guns.  These 
figures,  however,  do  not  at  all  represent  the  fighting 
power  of  the  two  armies;  in  organization,  discipline, 
physical  condition  and  morale,  the  Confederates 
were  greatly  superior.  Their  regiments,  brigades 
and  divisions  were  well  filled;  the  soldiers  were 
nearly  all  veterans,  whose  terms  of  service  lasted  for 
the  war.  They  were  enured  to  every  kind  of  hard- 
ship; they  could  live  upon  little  and  march  untiringly 
day  and  night;  they  had  been  seasoned  by  every  kind 
of  experience,  had  stood  the  brunt  of  battle  many 
times  and  had  been  so  uniformly  successful  that  they 


DOROTHY  DAY  247 

now  believed  they  were  invincible.  Their  discip- 
line for  practical  purposes  was  as  nearly  perfect  as 
a  hard  struggle  like  the  Civil  War  could  make  it; 
their  confidence  in  their  leader  was  unbounded,  and 
they  felt  that  they  were  about  to  crown  a  series  of 
victories  by  a  triumphant  and  crushing  blow  deliv- 
ered in  the  enemy's  country.  As  they  entered  Penn- 
sylvania the  belief  was  universal  that  "Marse  Robert 
will  get  the  Yankees  this  trip,  suah."  "Except  in 
equipment,  a  better  army,  better  nerved  up  to  its 
work,  never  marched  upon  a  battlefield."  But  its 
equipment  was  defective,  some  of  the  infantry  had 
nothing  but  smoth-bore  muskets,  and  the  ammuni- 
tion for  the  artillery  was  poor.  The  men  were  badly 
clothed,  some  of  them  were  barefoot;  some  covered 
their  heads  with  nothing  but  a  plait  of  straw;  most 
of  them  were  ragged,  and  they  were  all  as  begrimed 
and  dusty  as  the  roads  on  which  they  marched.  When 
they  entered  Gettysburg  it  was  said:  "One  cannot 
tell  them  from  the  street,"  and  sometimes  (this  is 
no  disadvantage  in  war)  they  were  not  seen  or  no- 
ticed because  they  looked  so  much  like  the  mother 
earth  on  which  they  stood.  It  was  only  their  rifle 
barrels,  their  bayonets  and  their  colors  that  shone 
in  the  sunlight. 

A  bitter  outcry  has  been  made  against  the  ravages 
they  committed,  the  property  they  confiscated,  the 
contributions  they  levied,  the  live  stock  they  drove 
away.  But  this  was  war.  They  took  what  they 
needed — clothes,  carts,  horses,  cattle,  provisions — 


248  DOROTHY  DAY 

they  sent  supplies  back  to  Virginia,  and  for  all  these 
things  they  paid  in  Confederate  currency,  which 
proved  worthless,  indeed,  but  it  was  all  they  had, 
and  it  was  what  they  used  themselves  at  home.  They 
did  not  wantonly  destroy  property  nor  commit  un- 
necessary cruelties.  Lee  had  forbidden  this  before 
they  had  passed  into  northern  territory.  It  was 
greatly  to  the  credit  of  the  "ragged  rebels"  whose 
homes  had  suffered  from  the  ravages  of  war,  and 
who  had  heard  innumerable  tales  of  outrages  upon 
their  people,  that  they  were  so  generally  free  from 
the  spirit  of  revenge.  There  were  indeed  com- 
plaints of  their  manners.  "They  were  a  rude  and 
filthy  set,"  declared  the  tidy  Germans  of  Gettysburg. 
Their  manner  of  eating  was  shocking;  they  threw 
apple-butter  in  all  directions  while  spreading  their 
bread,  but  they  harmed  no  women,  children  or  non- 
combatants  ;  nay,  more,  a  Confederate  soldier  would 
even  go  out  into  the  street  amid  a  shower  of  bullets 
to  get  a  bucket  of  water  for  a  mother  and  her  little 
ones.  In  the  flush  of  anticipated  victory  they  were 
true  to  the  best  traditions  of  their  race. 

In  organization,  physical  training  and  morale,  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  was  at  a  disadvantage.  It 
was  composed  of  no  less  than  seven  corps.  It  was 
too  greatly  divided  for  proper  union  of  effort. 
There  were  too  many  commanders  and  too  many 
staffs. 

The  divisions  and  brigades  were  much  smaller 
than  in  the  Confederate  army;  the  proportion  of 


DOROTHY  DAY  249 

veterans  was  much  less;  many  of  the  regiments  were 
not  well  filled;  there  were  new  organizations  of  re- 
cruits not  easily  assimilated,  and  which  weakened  the 
power  of  the  army  to  endure  long  marches  and  ex- 
treme exertion;  the  number  of  stragglers  was  very 
large;  many  of  the  officers  were  distrusted,  and  there 
were  bickering  and  jealousy  among  those  high  in 
authority.  Lee's  army,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a 
unit  in  its  excellence,  and  in  spite  of  its  discrepancy 
in  numbers  and  equipment,  was,  under  its  great 
chief,  more  than  a  match  for  the  often  defeated 
Army  of  the  Potomac  under  its  untried  commander. 

But  at  the  outset  Lee  made  a  serious  mistake. 
While  he  was  marching  up  the  Shenandoah,  he  gave 
Stuart,  who  commanded  his  cavalry,  the  discretion- 
ary right  to  separate  from  the  main  body  of  the 
troops  and  pass,  with  three  out  of  his  five  divisions, 
to  the  east  of  Hooker. 

Stuart  led  a  bold  but  useless  raid  around  the 
Federal  army;  passed  close  to  Washington  and 
Baltimore,  advanced  into  Pennsylvania,  and  after 
two  ineffectual  efforts  to  join,  first  Early  at  York 
and  then  Ewell  at  Carlisle,  he  arrived  on  the  field 
of  Gettysburg,  worn  and  exhausted  by  forced 
marches,  on  the  evening  of  July  2d,  barely  in  time 
to  take  part  in  the  cavalry  engagement  of  the  final 
day  of  the  battle. 

Two  divisions  of  Stuart's  command,  indeed,  had 
been  left  behind  to  guard  the  gaps  of  the  Blue 


250  DOROTHY  DAY 

Ridge  and  then  follow  Lee  across  the  Potomac,  but 
they  did  not  reach  Gettysburg  until  the  third  day. 

The  cavalry  is  "the  eyes  of  the  army"  to  watch 
the  enemy's  movements.  Lee  was  invading  for  the 
first  time  a  hostile  country  where  he  could  obtain  no 
information  from  other  sources,  and  until  the  28th 
of  June  he  was  wholly  in  the  dark  as  to  the  move- 
ments of  his  adversary. 

On  that  day  a  man  named  Harrison,  a  spy  and 
scout  of  Longstreet's,  who  had  followed  the  Federal 
army  to  Frederick  and  there  found  three  corps,  one 
of  which  was  about  to  move  westward  and  threaten 
Lee's  communications,  now  made  his  way  to  the 
Confederate  army  and  reported  what  he  had  found. 
Lee,  startled  to  find  that  Meade  was  close  upon  his 
heels,  immediately  changed  his  plan.  He  called 
Ewell  back  from  a  projected  attack  upon  Harrisburg 
and  directed  the  whole  army  to  concentrate  at  Cash- 
town,  a  small  place  eight  miles  northwest  of  Gettys- 
burg, so  as  to  threaten  Baltimore  and  thus  compel 
the  Union  forces  to  turn  eastward  and  abandon  any 
attempt  upon  his  rear.  Two  divisions  of  Hill's 
corps  which  had  reached  Cashtown  now  advanced 
still  further  to  the  southwest  toward  Gettysburg 
looking  for  the  enemy.  Thus  it  was  that  that  town 
became  the  scene  of  the  great  conflict. 

Gettysburg  lay  east  of  the  South  Mountain  range. 
There  were  ten  roads  that  here  came  together  like 
the  spokes  of  a  wheel,  by  which  Lee  could  move 
upon  Harrisburg,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore  or 


DOROTHY  DAY  251 

Washington  or  could  retreat,  either  east  or  west  o. 
the  mountains,  back  to  Virginia.  It  was,  therefore, 
a  most  important  point  to  hold.  Each  of  the  two 
commanders,  Lee  and  Meade,  had  resolved  to  fight 
a  defensive  battle;  each  had  counted  upon  time  for 
preparation,  and  neither  had  fixed  upon  Gettysburg 
as  the  place  of  the  encounter.  The  different  corps 
of  Meade's  army  were  spread  out  over  a  considera- 
ble territory.  They  were  to  advance  and  feel  for 
the  enemy,  and  when  he  was  found,  they  were  to 
retire,  drawing  him  on  as  far  as  Pipe  Creek  where 
the  line  of  battle  was  to  be  formed,  and  his  further 
progress  definitely  resisted.  This  plan  was  not  easy 
of  execution.  A  retreat  in  the  presence  of  an  active 
and  confident  enemy  may  become  a  rout  before  the 
stand  is  made,  or  if  Meade  carried  out  his  maneuver, 
Lee  might  still  have  declined  to  attack  him  in  his 
chosen  position  and  might  have  passed  around  it 
and  thus  have  compelled  the  selection  of  another 
place  for  the  decisive  encounter. 

Moreover,  when  an  army  full  of  spirit  has  been 
advancing  against  an  enemy  it  is  often  as  difficult  to 
effect  a  retrograde  movement  with  the  immediate 
prospect  of  a  battle,  as  it  is  to  rally  troops  that  are 
defeated.  Neither  officers  nor  men  will  retire  when 
they  have  come  to  fight,  and  when  they  see  before 
them  the  opportunity  to  win  a  victory.  This  is 
exactly  what  happened  at  Gettysburg.  The  officers 
in  command  would  not  dishearten  their  men  by  with- 
drawing them  from  a  good  position  which  they  could 
hold  if  reinforced  in  time. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  FIRST  DAY'S  BATTLE  OF  GETTYSBURG 

BUFORD,  who  commanded  a  division  of  the 
Federal  cavalry,  had  been  directed  to  advance  to 
Gettysburg,  and  on  the  evening  of  June  3Oth  he 
arrived  in  that  town.  Reynolds  was  a  few  miles  be- 
hind him  with  the  First  Corps;  Howard,  with  the 
Eleventh,  was  a  little  further  to  the  southwest; 
Meade,  with  the  Second  and  Third  Corps,  was  at 
Taneytown,  fifteen  miles  south,  while  the  three 
remaining  corps  were  stretched  out  as  far  as  West- 
minster, more  than  thirty  miles  distant.  The  army 
was  too  widely  scattered. 

Buford  knew  that  a  portion  of  the  Confederate 
forces  would  soon  be  upon  him,  and  he  determined 
to  interpose  between  the  enemy  and  the  town. 

West  of  Gettysburg  several  parallel  ridges  rose 
one  after  another,  the  last  and  highest  of  which,  a 
number  of  miles  away,  formed  the  South  Moun- 
tain range.  The  ridge  nearest  to  Gettysburg,  about 
a  half  a  mile  west  from  the  town  and  running  nearly 
north  and  south,  was  crowned  by  the  Lutheran 
Seminary,  and  was  called  Seminary  Ridge.  It 
was  covered  by  an  open  wood  from  which  the 
ground  sloped  westward  and  then  rose  again, 
forming  the  second,  or  McPherson's  Ridge, 


DOROTHY  DAY  253 

which  was  broader  and  lower  than  the  first 
one.  Both  terminated  together  at  Oak  Hill,  a 
point  which  thus  commanded  their  slopes  and  the 
low  land  between  them  as  well  as  a  level  plain  north 
of  Gettysburg. 

West  of  McPherson's  Ridge,  Willoughby's  Run 
flowed  southward,  and  on  this  ridge,  directly  west 
of  the  Seminary,  a  wood  filled  the  slope  down  to 
the  run.  There  were  three  roads  from  Gettysburg 
that  crossed  these  ridges;  one  going  southwest  to 
Hagcrstown  by  way  of  Fairfield,  another  going 
northwest  to  Chambersburg  by  way  of  Cashtown, 
and  a  third  still  further  to  the  north.  The  Seminary 
was  in  the  fork  formed  by  the  Hagerstown  and 
Chambersburg  roads.  It  was  upon  these  ridges  that 
Buford  determined  to  interpose  his  resistance. 

The  Confederate  corps  under  Hill  was  approach- 
ing along  the  Chambersburg  road.  Before  nine 
o'clock  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  began.  Buford's 
skirmishers  gave  way  slowly,  contesting  every  step. 
After  an  hours'  fighting  Reynolds  arrived,  soon  fol- 
lowed by  the  troops  of  the  First  Corps  who  took 
the  place  of  the  slender  lines  of  Buford's  dismounted 
cavalry. 

An  important  position  was  the  piece  of  woods 
between  the  Chambersburg  and  Hagerstown  roads, 
extending  from  McPherson's  Ridge  down  to  Wil- 
loughby's Run.  The  Iron  Brigade  entered  these 
woods  from  the  east  just  as  the  Confederate  brigade 
of  Archer  was  crossing  the  run  to  enter  upon  the 


254  DOROTHY  DAY 

other  side.  General  Reynolds,  at  the  eastern  edge 
of  the  wood,  turning  to  see  whether  the  remaining 
troops  of  his  corps  were  approaching,  was  shot  by 
a  sharpshooter  and  instantly  killed.  The  Iron 
Brigade  swooped  around  the  right  flank  of  Archer's 
troops  and  captured  them.  But  a  Federal  brigade 
under  Cutler,  north  of  the  Chambersburg  road,  had 
retreated  in  confusion  to  the  suburbs  of  Gettysburg, 
although  it  afterwards  returned  to  the  front.  Other 
Confederate  brigades  and  divisions  were  steadily 
advancing. 

General  Howard  had  come  upon  the  field  just  at 
the  moment  when  Cutler's  brigade  had  been  driven 
in,  and  he  sent  a  message  to  Meade  at  Taneytown 
that  the  First  Corps  had  fled,  thus  magnifying  this 
retreat  to  the  flight  of  an  entire  corps. 

The  Eleventh  Corps  reached  Gettysburg  about 
one  o'clock.  Two  divisions  were  directed  by 
Howard  to  go  north  of  the  town,  to  prolong  the 
line  of  the  First  Corps  to  the  right.  The  remaining 
division  with  the  reserve  artillery  was  directed  to 
occupy  Cemetery  Hill  just  south  of  Gettysburg. 
This  was  the  first  definite  step  taken  in  the  selection 
of  that  admirable  defensive  position. 

The  two  divisions  north  of  the  town  were  com- 
pelled to  form  their  line  of  battle  on  low,  open 
ground.  They  did  not  connect  with  the  First  Corps 
on  their  left,  and  their  right  flank  was  also  exposed. 

Early's  division  of  Swell's  corps,  coming  from 
York,  attacked  the  slender  line.  Soon  both  divisions 


DOROTHY  DAY  255 

fled  and  were  driven  back  in  confusion  into  Gettys- 
burg. The  streets  were  blocked  with  guns  and 
wagons,  and  the  Confederates,  screaming,  shooting, 
stabbing,  pursued  the  retreating  troops  through  the 
town  and  made  prisoners  of  thousands. 

The  First  Corps,  deprived  of  its  support,  was 
now  in  desperate  straits.  Two  divisions  had  lost  half 
their  men,  and  Doubleday  who  had  succeeded  Rey- 
nolds in  command  withdrew  the  remnants  and  finally 
joined  Howard  on  Cemetery  Hill.  It  was  about 
this  time  that  Lee  arrived  upon  the  scene  and  wit- 
nessed the  retreat  of  the  Federal  troops. 

This  was  the  vital  moment  when  the  defeat  of 
the  Union  army  might  have  been  turned  into  an 
overwhelming  disaster.  A  mob  of  fugitives  was 
pressing  up  the  slopes  of  Cemetery  Hill.  All  that 
was  needed  was  a  final  blow,  and  the  last  rallying 
point  of  the  Federal  army  would  have  been  carried 
by  the  victorious  Confederates.  It  is  said,  indeed, 
that  Lee  sent  Ewell  a  direction  to  "press  those 
people  and  secure  the  hill,  if  possible,  but  not  to 
bring  on  a  general  engagement."  With  his  cus- 
tomary reliance  upon  his  corps  commanders,  Lee 
had  not  made  the  order  absolute.  And  now  there 
occurred  one  of  those  trifling  events  which  some- 
times change  the  fate  of  the  world.  It  was  the 
shower  in  the  night  before  Waterloo  which  delayed 
the  attack  of  Napoleon  and  prevented  the  early 
overthrow  of  Wellington.  It  was  a  false  report  that 
some  Union  troops  were  advancing  on  the  extreme 


256  DOROTHY  DAY 

left  of  his  corps,  which  induced  Ewell  to  send  two 
brigades  in  that  direction.  The  absence  of  these 
brigades  now  caused  him  to  hesitate;  he  had  another 
division  under  Johnson  which  would  soon  be  coming 
up  and  he  determined  to  await  its  arrival.  It  did 
not  reach  the  field  until  sundown.  The  supreme 
moment  was  lost,  for  the  Federal  troops  were  then 
reorganized  and  reinforced. 

The  regiment  in  which  I  served  was  attached  to 
the  Second  Corps,  commanded  by  General  Hancock. 
When  the  battle  began  we  were  at  Taneytown  with 
the  commander-in-chief,  fifteen  miles  away.  It  was 
after  one  o'clock  when  the  message  came  from 
General  Howard  that  the  First  Corps  had  fled. 
Meade  at  once  sent  Hancock  forward  to  the  field 
of  battle  to  take  command  of  the  Union  forces, 
to  rally  the  troops,  and  if  he  deemed  it  wise,  to 
choose  the  battle  ground.  At  this  moment  a  num- 
ber of  Hancock's  staff  were  absent  upon  other  duty, 
and  as  I  happened  to  be  close  at  hand,  I  was  de- 
tached from  my  regiment,  furnished  with  a  horse, 
and  directed  to  join  the  escort  which  accompanied 
him  to  the  field,  so  as  to  be  in  readiness  to  convey 
dispatches,  to  act  generally  as  an  aide  and  do  what- 
ever might  be  needful  in  this  emergency.  Our  break- 
neck ride  along  the  dusty  road,  under  a  fierce  July 
sun  was  no  light  matter  to  one  who  had  not  felt 
the  back  of  a  horse  for  many  months,  but  the  terri- 
ble suspense  and  eagerness  to  know  the  result  of 
the  battle,  drove  every  other  thought  from  my 


DOROTHY  DAY  257 

mind.  We  could  hear  the  artillery  many  miles 
away;  as  we  came  closer,  the  rattle  of  the  musketry 
from  two  directions,  both  north  and  west  of  the 
town,  became  incessant  and  when,  shortly  before 
four  o'clock,  we  reached  the  cemetery,  the  spectacle 
which  greeted  our  eyes  might  well  have  daunted  the 
bravest  commander. 

The  remains  of  the  Eleventh  Corps  which  had 
been  pouring  through  the  streets  of  the  town  were 
arriving  in  confusion.  The  remnants  of  the  First 
Corps,  which  had  lost  half  its  troops  during  the 
long  fight,  were  falling  back  from  Seminary  Ridge. 
Thousands  of  stragglers  and  fugitives  were  stream- 
ing southward,  spreading  the  story  of  the  defeat. 
Carts,  guns  and  ambulances  filled  with  wounded  en- 
cumbered the  roads,  while  the  heights  on  the  west 
and  the  town  itself  swarmed  with  hostile  forces. 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  this  disaster  Hancock  deter- 
mined that  the  place  where  he  stood  was  the  place 
to  fight  the  battle  to  a  finish.  How  well  I  remem- 
ber his  superb  calm  amid  the  terrible  confusion 
around  him  I 

The  President  was  authorized  by  law  to  place 
any  officer  over  another  of  higher  rank  if  he  deemed 
it  necessary;  and  it  was  by  virtue  of  this  law,  or, 
perhaps,  without  any  definite  recollection  of  the  rank 
of  the  two  generals,  that  Meade  had  ordered  Han- 
cock to  take  command  of  the  field,  although  Howard 
was  the  senior  officer.  But  Howard  refused  to 
recognize  Hancock's  authority.  I  heard  him  say: 


25  8  DOROTHY  DAY 

"Why,  Hancock,  you  can't  command  here,  I  am  in 
command,  and  I  rank  you !"  This  misunderstand- 
ing might  well  have  led  to  fatal  confusion  if  the 
Confederates  had  then  attacked,  but  they  did  not. 
Without  settling  the  question,  each  general  went  to 
work  to  stay  the  current  of  defeat. 

I  had  my  part  in  the  task  of  reforming  the  line. 
A  shattered  brigade  under  Wadsworth  was  sent  by 
Hancock  to  hold  Gulp's  Hill,  a  steep  eminence  on  the 
right.  Buford's  cavalry  was  posted  on  the  left. 
Hancock  sent  to  Meade  a  report  that  the  position 
on  Cemetery  Ridge  was  a  strong  one,  but  might  be 
easily  turned. 

It  was  hard  work  to  rally  the  Eleventh  Corps, 
but  at  last  this  was  accomplished  and  the  multitudes 
of  fugitives  that  thronged  the  roads  were  halted. 
The  riflemen  took  their  positions  behind  walls  and 
fences  and  breastworks  hastily  constructed;  the 
artillery  brought  back  by  the  two  corps  in  their  re- 
treat was  placed  in  position;  other  columns  in  blue 
came  in  sight  on  the  roads  from  the  south, — the 
Twelfth  Corps  under  Slocum,  part  of  the  Third 
Corps  under  Sickles,  and  finally  our  own  Second 
Corps. 

Hancock,  after  directing  these  last  troops  to  fall 
in  position  on  the  left,  hurried  back  to  Taneytown 
to  report  to  Meade,  and  to  recommend  again  that 
Cemetery  Hill  should  be  the  battle  ground.  Meade 
adopted  the  recommendation,  abandoned  his  own 
plan  of  defense  behind  Pipe  Creek,  and  late  at  night 


DOROTHY  DAY  259 

hastened  to  the  front.  I  had  been  left  at  the 
cemetery  with  the  order  to  bring  to  Hancock  any 
despatches  that  might  be  sent  him  prior  to  his  re- 
turn. I  was  not  needed,  however,  for  this  duty, 
so  I  remained  upon  the  field  and,  wearied  by  my 
long  ride,  I  lay  down  among  the  tombstones  and 
sank  into  an  early  sleep. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  I  was  awakened  by 
a  group  of  horsemen  entering  the  cemetery  from 
the  Taneytown  road  and  picking  their  way  through 
the  soldiers  slumbering  under  the  cypress  trees.  The 
moonlight  was  brilliant,  and  General  Meade  (for 
it  was  the  commander-in-chief  who  had  arrived) 
tried  to  realize  the  position  of  the  army  and  the 
character  of  the  battle  field  while  he  listened  to  the 
reports  and  suggestions  of  his  officers.  He  was 
pale  and  hollow-eyed,  worn  out  by  care  and  lack  of 
sleep.  The  clock  tower  on  Seminary  Ridge  showed 
where  was  the  center  of  the  enemy's  forces.  The 
town  at  the  foot  of  Cemetery  Hill  was  filled  with 
hostile  troops.  Meade  was  at  first  not  altogether 
satisfied  with  the  field  selected,  and  orders  were 
drawn  up  to  provide  for  a  retreat  to  Pipe  Creek  in 
case  it  should  be  necessary.  Slocum  was  directed 
to  command  the  right  and  Hancock  the  center  of 
the  Federal  army. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BATTLES  ON  CEMETERY  RIDGE 

THERE  were  really  two  battles  of  Gettysburg:  the 
battle  of  the  first  day  on  the  ridges  west  of  the  town, 
in  the  low  plain  north  of  it,  and  in  the  town  itself; 
and  the  battle  of  the  second  and  third  days  south  of 
the  town  on  Cemetery  Ridge. 

No  part  of  the  first  day's  battlefield  was  con- 
tested in  the  subsequent  engagements;  the  Con- 
federates were  in  full  possession  of  that  section  of 
the  field.  I  must  now  describe  the  second  conflict. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  no  man  can  see  all  of 
a  battle,  and  certainly  no  maps,  pictures,  diagrams 
or  descriptions  can  afterwards  exhibit  it.  The 
smoke,  the  fearful  tumult,  the  confusion,  the  terri- 
ble sights  and  swift  changes  that  flash  upon  the 
vision,  are  impossible  to  set  down  or  describe.  The 
variations  are  more  rapid  and  complex  than  the  path 
of  a  serpent  or  the  transformation  of  a  cloud.  By 
the  time  you  have  sketched  the  contour  of  the  strug- 
gle it  is  something  utterly  different,  and  the  general 
melee  of  regiment  with  regiment,  company  with 
company  and  man  with  man  is  wholly  indescribable. 

Nevertheless,  there  are  few  great  battles  that  are 
easier  to  understand  than  the  second  and  third  days' 
conflicts  at  Gettysburg.  The  struggle  was  more 


DOROTHY  DAY  261 

nearly  a  unit  than  most  engagements,  and  there  were 
several  positions — one  on  Little  Round  Top  and 
others  on  Cemetery  Hill,  from  which  nearly  the 
whole  battlefield  was  visible.  This  was  one  of  the 
advantages  of  the  Union  position.  There  was  no 
place  from  which  Lee  could  so  well  see  the  whole 
of  the  panorama,  or  even  the  positions  of  his  own 
troops. 

Immediately  south  of  Gettysburg,  and  so  close  to 
it  that  the  houses  of  the  town  climbed  the  first 
grade  of  the  ascent,  was  Cemetery  Hill,  an  eminence 
about  80  feet  high,  crowned  by  the  evergreen  ceme- 
tery from  which  it  had  taken  its  name,  and  where 
James  Gettys,  the  founder  of  the  town,  as  well  as 
most  of  its  deceased  inhabitants  lay  buried.  The 
easy  slopes  of  this  ascent  could  readily  be  swept  by 
artillery  posted  on  its  summit.  Southward  from  the 
cemetery,  perhaps  a  trifle  to  the  west,  and  on  a 
slightly  lower  level,  extended  the  long  range  of 
Cemetery  Ridge,  which,  however,  about  a  mile  south 
of  the  cemetery,  sank  away  nearly  down  to  the  inter- 
vening valley,  and  then,  perhaps,  another  mile  fur- 
ther on,  rose  again  and  terminated  in  two  rocky 
eminences,  Little  Round  Top,  with  a  bare  summit, 
something  over  100  feet  above  the  valley;  and  still 
further  south,  Round  Top  itself,  covered  with  wood- 
land and  210  feet  high.  West  of  the  two  Round 
Tops,  Plum  Run  flowed  southward,  and  on  its  op- 
posite side  rose  the  rough  rocks  of  the  Devil's  Den; 
the  valley  between,  through  which  the  run  flowed, 


262  DOROTHY  DAY 

is  now  called  from  the  slaughter  of  the  fatal  day, 
"The  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death."  These  two 
miles  of  Cemetery  Ridge  stretching  south  from  the 
Cemetery  itself,  were  occupied  by  the  center  and 
left  wing  of  the  Federal  army.  The  whole  line  of 
battle  may  be  fairly  represented  by  a  fish-hook,  the 
curve  of  the  hook  being  on  Cemetery  Hill,  the  end 
of  the  long  shank  on  the  left  being  the  two  Round 
Tops,  while  the  point  of  the  hook  at  the  right  ex- 
tremity of  the  line  was  Gulp's  Hill,  a  steep,  rocky 
eminence  crowned  by  a  wood.  To  the  east  and 
south  of  it  flowed  Rock  Creek.  Between  Gulp's 
Hill  and  the  cemetery — that  is,  between  the  point 
of  the  hook  and  its  bend,  there  was  a  gap  in  the 
ridge  where  the  land  sank  away  into  the  valley. 

A  street  leading  southward  through  Gettysburg 
up  the  lower  slopes  of  Cemetery  Hill  divided  near 
the  edge  of  the  town  into  two  roads.  To  the  right 
was  the  Emmitsburg  road  which  proceeded  toward 
the  southwest,  and  to  the  left  was  the  Baltimore 
Pike,  which  took  a  southeasterly  direction.  The 
Union  line  came  up  close  to  the  junction  of  these 
roads.  The  Emmitsburg  road,  a  short  distance 
further  on,  branched  again,  the  main  road  continuing 
southwestward  under  Cemetery  Ridge  to  Emmits- 
burg, and  another  road  proceeding  due  south  over 
the  ridge  and  then  behind  it,  to  Taneytown.  The 
left  wing  of  the  Federal  army  during  the  second  and 
third  days'  battles,  was  on  the  ridge  between  the 
Taneytown  and  the  Emmitsburg  roads. 


DOROTHY  DAY  263 

Almost  a  mile  west  of  Cemetery  Ridge  and  nearly 
parallel  with  it,  extended  Seminary  Ridge,  the  north 
end  of  which  has  been  described  in  the  account  of 
the  previous  day's  engagement.  This  ridge  was 
covered  with  open  timber,  and  later  in  the  day 
Longstreet's  troops  occupied  its  southern  stretches 
with  Hill's  corps  to  the  north  of  them.  Ewell's  line 
extended  eastward  through  the  town  of  Gettysburg 
and  around  to  the  southeast,  and  then  south,  envelop- 
ing Gulp's  Hill  and  the  right  wing  of  the  Federal 
army.  It  will  thus  be  seen  that  the  Confederates 
had  the  outside  lines  running  nearly  parallel  to 
those  of  the  Federal  army,  but  forming  a  longer, 
and  consequently,  a  thinner  line. 

There  were  several  plans  of  attack  which  Lee 
might  have  adopted,  and  we  were  for  a  long  time 
uncertain  which  he  would  choose.  First,  he  might 
have  determined  to  move  his  army  southward, 
around  our  left  flank  and  thus  have  compelled  us  to 
abandon  our  advantageous  position  on  Cemetery 
Hill  and  Cemetery  Ridge.  This,  as  it  afterwards  ap- 
peared, was  the  plan  urged  upon  him  by  Longstreet 
soon  after  their  arrival  upon  the  field,  and  it  offered 
perahps  a  greater  certainty  of  success  than  any 
other.  Or,  if  the  temper  of  Lee's  victorious  army 
demanded  an  immediate  conflict,  he  might  have 
massed  his  troops  and  made  a  direct  attack  upon 
Cemetery  Hill  at  the  bend  of  the  fish-hook,  as  he 
himself  proposed  in  the  evening  of  the  first  day, 
but  was  dissuaded  by  Ewell.  He  might  have  at- 


264  DOROTHY  DAY 

tacked  either  our  left  wing  near  Little  Round  Top, 
or  our  right  wing  at  Gulp's  Hill,  and  if  he  had 
concentrated  his  troops,  his  chances  of  victory  were 
excellent,  but  no  one  would  have  believed  that  with 
a  slenderer  and  longer  line  than  ours  encircling  us, 
he  would  have  tried  to  flank  us  and  attack  us  at 
both  ends,  when  we  could  reinforce  either  wing  with 
far  greater  ease  than  he.  Yet  this  was  the  plan  he 
adopted.  It  was  the  worst  of  all,  and  to  make  it 
still  more  hopeless,  owing  to  a  series  of  misunder- 
standings, the  attacks  were  not  simultaneous,  but 
successive,  first  on  our  left  wing,  then  upon  our  right 
and  then  on  Cemetery  Hill. 

Lee  had,  however,  taken  greater  risks  before  and 
had  come  out  them  successfully.  At  Games'  Mill, 
on  the  Peninsula,  at  the  second  battle  of  Manassas 
and  at  Chancellorsville,  he  had  separated  Jackson's 
corps  from  the  rest  of  his  army  by  long  distances, 
and  in  each  case  had  won  a  brilliant  victory.  To-day 
he  had  greater  confidence  than  ever  in  his  invincible 
veterans.  But  Jackson  was  dead,  the  Federals  were 
alert  on  the  ground  where  they  could  see  the  whole 
field  of  battle,  and  where  they  were  defending  their 
own  soil.  It  is  not  wise  to  tempt  the  gods  too  often ! 

At  daybreak  I  saw  Meade  ride  out  to  reconnoiter. 
At  this  time  the  Fifth  and  Sixth  Corps  and  two 
brigades  of  the  Third  had  not  yet  arrived.  Even 
our  own  corps,  the  Second,  did  not  take  its  posi- 
tion on  Cemetery  Ridge  until  six  or  seven  o'clock. 
An  attack  at  daybreak  might  have  defeated  the 


DOROTHY  DAY  265 

Federal  forces.  It  was  of  the  utmost  importance 
for  the  Confederates  to  begin  the  battle  immedi- 
ately. 

There  was,  however,  great  delay.  We  did  not 
know  the  cause  of  it,  but  it  filled  us  with  inexpressi- 
ble satisfaction.  The  fact  was  that  Longstreet  was 
not  ready.  Instead  of  rushing  his  men  forward  with 
all  possible  speed,  he  again  argued  with  Lee  in 
favor  of  his  flanking  movement  on  Meade's  left, 
then  urged  him  to  postpone  the  attack  until  Pickett's 
division,  which  was  nearly  a  day's  march  distant, 
should  arrive. 

Later  still,  Longstreet  persuaded  Lee  to  recon- 
noiter,  and  then  to  wait  until  noon  for  a  brigade 
which  had  been  doing  picket  duty;  then  the  direction 
of  the  troops  was  changed  and  a  long  circuit  made. 
Their  movements  were  so  slow  that  it  was  half-past 
three  in  the  afternoon  before  Hood's  division,  which 
led  the  flanking  movement  on  their  extreme  right, 
was  prepared  to  strike. 

In  the  meantime,  in  our  army,  the  balance  of  the 
Third  Corps  had  arrived,  as  well  as  the  Fifth  Corps 
under  Sykes.  General  Slocum,  who  commanded  the 
right  wing,  had  his  own  Twelfth  Corps  and  what  re- 
mained of  the  First  and  the  Eleventh  posted  on 
Gulp's  Hill  and  Cemetery  Hill, — that  is,  he  held 
the  point  and  the  bend  of  the  fish-hook.  Next  to 
him  on  the  left  was  our  own  Second  Corps,  under 
Hancock  on  Cemetery  Ridge  just  south  of  the  Ceme- 
tery. Further  down  the  shank  of  the  fish-hook  was 


266  DOROTHY  DAY 

Sickles'  Third  Corps,  while  Sykes'  Fifth  Corps, 
which  had  just  arrived,  lay  resting  on  Rock  Creek 
at  the  Baltimore  pike.  The  Sixth  Corps,  under 
Sedgwick,  had  not  yet  come.  When  it  arrived  dur- 
ing the  battle,  it  rested  on  the  eastern  slopes  of 
Round  Top. 

Meade  evidently  did  not  believe  that  the  first 
blow  was  to  be  delivered  at  his  extreme  left  against 
the  Third  Corps.  Sickles'  line  did  not  extend  as 
far  south  as  Little  Round  Top,  and  although  that 
position  had  been  occupied  as  a  signal  station,  it 
was  unprotected.  It  was  a  point  of  vital  importance, 
for  it  was  stripped  of  trees  and  commanded  our 
entire  line  on  Cemetery  Ridge. 

Sickles'  troops  were  in  a  depression  of  this  ridge 
just  north  of  Little  Round  Top.  The  ground  there 
was  lower  than  it  was  at  a  peach  orchard  about  a 
mile  further  west,  and  Sickles  believed  that  by  ad- 
vancing his  line  to  this  latter  point  he  would  be  in 
a  better  position. 

The  difficulty  was  that  by  extending  his  weak  line 
he  left  an  open  space  between  his  corps  and  our 
Second  Corps,  which  was  next  to  him  on  the  north, 
and  he  was  also  unable  to  occupy  Little  Round  Top. 
But  Sickles  determined  upon  his  own  responsibility 
to  advance  his  troops.  We  who  were  with  Hancock 
could  see  this  movement,  and  we  looked  with  fore- 
boding upon  the  gap  that  lay  between  the  Third 
Corps  and  our  own. 

Hood's  division,  on  the  extreme  right  of  Long- 


DOROTHY  DAY  267 

street's  corps,  now  began  to  circle  around  our  left 
near  the  base  of  Little  Round  Top  and  when,  about 
five  o'clock,  he  attacked  the  Federal  troops  he  at- 
tempted to  capture  that  important  position.  We 
could  see  one  attack  made  after  another  on  that 
rocky  eminence,  and  the  troops  pressed  to  and  fro 
on  both  sides,  until  a  heroic  charge  finally  drove 
the  Confederates  back  into  the  valley. 

In  the  meantime,  the  battle  raged  fiercely  from 
the  Devil's  Den  westward  to  the  peach  orchard. 
Our  forces  were  repeatedly  driven  in;  reinforce- 
ments from  the  Fifth  Corps  were  sent  to  Sickles' 
support,  but  one  after  another  they  were  repulsed. 
The  advance  of  the  Confederates  could  not  be 
stayed  until  Crawford's  division  of  that  corps  and 
three  brigades  of  Sedgwick's  Sixth  Corps  arrived 
upon  tRe  field.  At  the  close  of  the  fight  the  general 
result  was  the  Third  Corps  was  forced  back  to  the 
low  ridge  which  formed  the  Federal  main  line  of 
battle  in  the  morning.  Sickles  lost  a  leg  near  the 
beginning  of  the  engagement,  and  Hood  was 
wounded  in  the  arm. 

The  conflict  in  the  Devil's  Den,  in  a  wheat  field 
north  of  it,  and  in  all  the  broken  and  rocky  country 
west  of  Little  Round  Top,  was  of  the  most  desultory 
character,  the  men  fighting  singly  or  in  small  de- 
tachments, climbing  trees  and  firing  from  among 
the  branches,  lying  in  ambush  behind  rocks  and 
trunks,  stalking  each  other  and  picking  off  their  an- 
tagonists. "Death  lurked  behind  every  leaf  and 


268  DOROTHY  DAY 

stone."  The  slaughter  on  our  side  was  greater  in 
this  part  of  the  field  than  anywhere  else  upon  this 
famous  battle  ground.  As  I  crossed  Plum  Run  with 
a  message  from  Hancock  to  the  troops  beyond  it, 
I  saw  a  gruesome  sight.  The  brook  had  become 
red  with  blood,  yet  a  soldier  was  stooping  over  to 
quench  his  thirst  from  the  waters,  while  others  were 
filling  their  canteens. 

It  was  some  time  after  Hood's  attack  that  the 
other  division  of  Longstreet's  corps  advanced  from 
Seminary  Ridge  and  assailed  Humphrey's  division 
of  Sickles'  corps  on  the  Emmitsburg  road.  Hum- 
phrey found  himself  attacked  both  in  front  and  on 
the  left,  and  his  troops  were  driven  back  with  heavy 
loss.  Hancock,  who,  after  Sickles  was  wounded, 
had  been  placed  in  command  of  the  Third  Corps  as 
well  as  of  his  own,  and  who  for  the  second  time 
undertook  the  task  of  rallying  the  Federal  forces 
when  defeat  seemed  imminent,  hurried  forward 
his  own  troops  to  the  rescue.  I  was  directed  to 
follow  him  and  convey  dispatches.  I  could  see  that 
Humphreys'  regiments  were  so  shattered  that  they 
could  be  recognized  only  by  the  standards  which  the 
survivors  were  bringing  from  the  fight.  Hancock 
stayed  the  fugitives  and  organized  a  new  line  of 
defense. 

But  our  main  line  on  Cemetery  Ridge  itself  was 
now  assailed  by  the  Confederate  brigades  of  Wil- 
cox,  Perry  and  Wright.  Wilcox  stopped  close  to 
the  crest;  Perry  was  repulsed,  but  Wright  actually 


DOROTHY  DAY  269 

broke  the  center  of  the  Federal  line,  captured  a 
number  of  guns,  reached  the  top  of  Cemetery  Ridge 
and,  looking  behind  it,  beheld  a  multitude  of  strag- 
glers encumbering  the  Baltimore  pike  in  their  ef- 
forts to  escape.  Encouraged  by  the  sight,  he  fought 
with  desperation  and  held  this  vital  position  with 
obstinate  valor  during  ten  long  minutes  of  splendid 
triumph. 

Here  was  a  crucial  moment  when  Lee  should 
have  hurled  every  available  soldier  into  the  breach. 
Hill's  corps  saw  the  heroic  feat  and  burned  to  rush 
to  the  relief  of  their  comrades,  but  no  order  to  ad- 
vance was  given  and  the  precious  opportunity  was 
gone.  I  had  been  dispatched  to  bring  other  troops 
to  the  rescue  of  the  Federal  line.  These  at  last 
arrived,  Wright,  unsupported  and  overwhelmed  by 
the  masses  of  our  soldiers,  was  compelled  to  retire, 
and  the  guns  he  had  taken  were  recaptured.  Thus 
Meade's  main  line  on  Cemetery  Ridge  again  re- 
mained intact. 

But  the  battle  had  been  disastrous  enough  to  the 
Federal  arms.  Sickles  has  been  greatly  blamed  for 
his  advance  movement,  which  nearly  destroyed  his 
own  corps  and  greatly  injured  the  Second  and  Fifth 
as  well.  There  was,  however,  this  compensation; 
the  advance  line  served  as  a  breakwater,  and  may 
have  prevented  Longstreet  from  holding  perma- 
nently any  part  of  our  main  line.  If  Sickles  had 
kept  his  original  position,  and  had  been  driven  back 
from  that,  the  result  might  have  been  fatal. 


270  DOROTHY  DAY 

The  attack  of  Longstreet's  Corps  upon  our  left 
was  only  a  part  of  the  second  day's  battle.  Lee  had 
directed  Ewell  to  assail  our  right,  as  soon  as  he 
heard  the  sound  of  Longstreet's  guns,  but  Ewell 
did  not  begin  until  two  hours  after  the  battle  opened 
— not,  indeed,  until  Longstreet's  attack  was  almost 
over.  It  was  nearly  sunset  when  Johnson's  division 
made  an  attack  upon  Gulp's  Hill.  Earlier  in  the 
afternoon  Meade,  anxious  to  re-enforce  Sickles,  had 
ordered  the  greater  part  of  the  troops  in  this  neigh- 
borhood to  go  to  his  support,  and  the  intrenchments 
on  our  extreme  right,  separated  by  a  small  ravine 
from  Gulp's  Hill,  were  thus  abandoned. 

Johnson's  attack  upon  the  hill  was  repulsed;  but 
his  men  found  the  abandoned  earthworks  and  took 
possession  of  them  about  nine  o'clock  at  night,  then 
advancing  still  further  they  came  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  the  Baltimore  Pike,  one  of  our  principal 
lines  of  communication.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
pike  and  close  at  hand,  was  our  reserve  ammunition. 
Had  Johnson  known  this  he  could  have  captured  the 
train  and  thrown  our  army  into  the  utmost  confu- 
sion. But  it  was  now  late  at  night,  and  he  could  not 
understand  why  the  works  he  had  just  seized  had 
been  abandoned.  He  feared  that  he  was  moving 
into  a  trap,  and  directed  his  men  to  retire  to  the 
abandoned  works  and  wait  for  morning. 

In  addition  to  Johnson's  attack  upon  our  right, 
another  assault  was  made  just  after  sunset  by 
Early's  division  of  Ewell's  corps  on  the  east  side  of 


DOROTHY  DAY  271 

Cemetery  Hill,  close  to  the  bend  in  the  fish-hook  as 
it  turned  toward  the  point.  Early  had  waited  until 
the  firing  and  smoke  of  Johnson's  attack  announced 
that  a  battle  was  in  progress.  He  then  ordered  for- 
ward from  the  town  and  the  fields  east  of  it  two  of 
his  own  brigades.  They  marched  in  faultless  order 
up  toward  a  gap  between  Gulp's  Hill  and  the  Ceme- 
tery, where,  however,  they  were  soon  exposed  to  a 
destructive  artillery  fire,  and  their  ranks  were  mowed 
down  by  canister.  One  of  these  brigades  was  now 
compelled  to  take  shelter  in  the  ravine.  The  other 
was  an  organization  composed  of  troops  of  great 
ferocity,  who  had  never  failed  in  a  charge  and  were 
deemed  invincible.  Each  man  bore  a  long  knife  with 
the  inscription,  "In  peace,  a  lamb;  in  war,  a  tiger." 
They  were  called  the  "Louisiana  Tigers,"  and  they 
pressed  on,  forcing  their  way  past  a  stone  wall,  leap- 
ing over  many  of  the  men  of  the  Eleventh  Corps 
who  were  defending  it  and  driving  the  others  up 
the  slope.  Two  of  the  Federal  batteries  on  Ceme- 
tery Hill  were  actually  reached  and  one  was  cap- 
tured. A  hand  to  hand  fight  ensued  around  the  guns, 
where  some  of  the  Tigers  were  brained  with  hand- 
spikes, stones,  guidons — whatever  could  be  seized 
for  the  purpose.  For  the  redoubtable  Hancock  was 
again  on  hand,  and  threw  Carroll's  brigade  from 
his  own  corps  into  the  melee.  The  Confederates 
were  left  without  support,  and  were  driven  back  with 
great  slaughter. 

I  had  been  sent  with  an  order  from  Hancock  to 


272  DOROTHY  DAY 

Carroll  and  directed  to  remain  and  bring  back  word 
in  case  further  troops  were  required.  I  arrived  just 
after  the  Tigers  were  driven  off,  and  when  the  firing 
slackened  I  followed  their  line  of  retreat  a  short 
distance  down  the  slope.  The  carnage  around  the 
guns  and  along  this  line  had  been  terrible.  It  was 
already  dark;  the  forms  of  the  dying  and  the 
wounded  that  lay  around  me  had  grown  indistinct, 
and  their  moaning  as  they  writhed  upon  the  ground 
added  to  the  horror  of  the  scene.  I  was  about  to 
return  when  a  low  moan  close  at  my  side  startled 
me.  How  well  I  knew  the  voice !  What  is  there  in 
a  simple  sound  which  distinguishes  so  clearly  the 
personality  of  him  who  utters  it  from  all  the  rest 
of  the  countless  myriads  of  mankind?  I  could  never 
mistake  that  tone.  It  was  Albert's.  I  leaped  from 
my  horse  and  leaned  over  him.  He  was  lying  with 
his  face  to  the  earth,  but  dark  though  it  was,  I  could 
see  the  waving  brown  hair  I  had  so  often  admired, 
and  bending  close  to  his  ear  I  called  his  name.  With 
a  shriek  he  half  raised  himself  and  turned,  then  fell 
upon  his  back  gazing  at  me  in  terror  as  if  I  were  a 
tormenting  spirit  from  that  world  he  was  so  soon  to 
enter.  Some  stretcher-bearers  were  already  upon 
the  ground.  I  called  two  of  them  who  were  passing 
and  asked  them  to  take  him  to  the  hospital,  and  I 
accompanied  them  as  they  bore  him  back.  The 
poor  fellow  was  too  far  gone  to  speak;  the  blood 
trickled  slowly  from  a  wound  in  his  breast.  Every 
few  minutes  he  would  look  at  me  and  shudder,  until 


DOROTHY  DAY  273 

I  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it,  then  there  was  a  faint 
smile,  but  before  we  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
with  a  long  gasp,  he  expired.  They  laid  him  where 
he  died.  I  noted  the  place  and  after  returning  and 
reporting  to  my  corps  commander,  I  stole  away  dur- 
ing the  night,  scooped  out  a  shallow  grave,  and  cov- 
ering the  head  of  my  old  friend  with  his  coat,  I 
gave  him  such  temporary  burial  as  I  could  and 
marked  the  spot  so  that  it  might  be  found  when  the 
opportunity  should  come  for  a  more  fitting  sepulture. 
Although  on  our  side  alone  nearly  twelve  thou- 
sand men  had  been  killed  or  disabled  during  the  fatal 
day,  the  final  struggle  was  still  to  come.  We  felt  cer- 
tain that  Lee  would  renew  the  attack  upon  the  mor- 
row. Meade  held  a  council  of  war  at  the  small 
house  just  behind  Cemetery  Ridge,  which  he  had 
made  his  headquarters.  As  I  was  in  waiting  upon 
Hancock  I  was  just  outside  the  building,  and  I  heard 
something  and  learned  more  of  what  was  said  and 
done.  The  commanders  of  each  of  the  corps  and  a 
few  others,  twelve  in  all,  were  assembled  in  a  little 
room  about  twelve  feet  square.  The  condition  of 
the  troops  was  disheartening.  The  First  and 
Eleventh  Corps  were  shattered  by  the  first  day's 
battle;  the  Third  Corps  was  "used  up  and  not  in 
condition  to  fight."  The  effective  strength  of  the 
forces  was  reported  as  only  fifty-eight  thousand, 
out  of  an  army  of  more  than  ninety  thousand  men. 
Yet  everybody  there  was  in  favor  of  remaining  and 
accepting  the  gage  of  battle  if  it  were  offered  again. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   THIRD    DAY'S    BATTLE 

THERE  was  bright  moonlight  on  the  second  of 
July  to  illuminate  the  ghastly  battlefield.  When 
morning  broke  on  the  third  day  it  found  in  many 
places  the  living  and  the  dead  sleeping  in  bivouac 
together.  At  the  points  where  the  last  attacks  had 
been  made,  on  Gulp's  Hill  and  the  Cemetery,  many 
a  soldier  on  awakening  saw  at  his  side  the  agonized 
face  and  the  torn  limbs  of  one  who  would  waken  no 
more.  Some,  indeed,  had  taken  a  corpse  for  a 
pillow.  The  parched  ground  was  soiled  and  stained 
by  the  blood  of  the  wounded  and  slain.  The  stench 
from  the  carnage  was  beginning  to  impregnate  the 
air.  Corpses  of  men  and  horses  dotted  the  slopes 
and  the  valley  between  the  two  lines  of  battle.  Be- 
yond, the  Confederates  swarmed  upon  the  heights  as 
well  as  in  the  streets  of  the  town.  Back  of  Ceme- 
tery Hill,  along  the  Baltimore  Pike,  there  was  a 
confused  mass  of  army  trains,  while  the  Geneva 
cross  marked  the  hospitals  where  the  surgeons  were 
at  work  on  their  terrible  ministrations  to  the 
wounded.  Scarcely  had  the  first  gray  light  appeared, 
when  the  sound  and  smoke  of  artillery  upon  the 
Federal  right  at  Gulp's  Hill  announced  that  the 
desperate  struggle  was  renewed. 


DOROTHY  DAY  275 

The  Federal  troops  which  had  been  called  away 
the  day  before  to  reinforce  Sickles,  and  who,  when 
they  returned  at  midnight,  found  that  their  works 
had  been  occupied  by  Johnson's  men,  began  their 
attack  for  the  recovery  of  these  works  in  the  gray 
of  the  morning.  This  was  the  beginning  of  an  ob- 
stinate struggle  in  the  woods  and  among  the  hills 
and  rocks  which  lasted  for  six  hours.  So  hot  and  con- 
stant was  the  fire  that  the  trees  afterwards  died  from 
the  effect  of  the  bullets  that  pierced  their  trunks  and 
branches.  Finally  at  eleven  o'clock  Johnson  gave 
up  the  contest,  and  the  Federal  line  was  left  once 
more  intact. 

From  eleven  to  one  o'clock  silence  reigned  over 
the  two  armies.  Our  troops  cooked,  ate  and  slum- 
bered, while  the  Confederates  were  making  ready 
for  the  cannonade  which  was  to  precede  the  final 
assault.  I  could  not  but  admire  the  magnificent  dis- 
play of  Confederate  artillery  just  before  the  open- 
ing of  the  great  bombardment  as  I  saw  it  from 
Cemetery  Ridge.  Our  whole  front  for  nearly  two 
miles  was  covered  by  batteries  stretching  in  an  un- 
broken line  from  near  the  Seminary  to  the  Peach 
Orchard,  so  that  the  whole  of  Seminary  Ridge  in 
front  of  us  seemed  planted  thick  with  cannon.  Never 
before  had  I  witnessed  such  a  sight.  A  hundred  and 
twenty  guns  were  brought  to  bear  upon  our  line. 
Our  army  had  more  artillery  than  the  Confederates, 
but  the  ground  available  for  its  use  on  Cemetery 
Ridge  was  so  contracted,  that  not  more  than  eighty 


276  DOROTHY  DAY 

pieces  could  be  placed  in  position  to  return  the  fire. 
Just  before  the  artillery  duel  opened,  I  could  hear 
through  the  hot,  quiet  air,  the  birds  singing  merrily 
in  a  little  copse  near  by.  But  at  one  o'clock,  in  the 
midst  of  their  warbling,  the  signal  gun  was  fired,  a 
cannonade  was  opened  by  every  piece,  and  we  heard 
the  birds  no  more.  The  crests  of  the  two  ridges  be- 
came two  long  lines  of  flame  and  smoke,  while  a 
thick  battle-cloud  settled  down  upon  the  fields  be- 
tween. The  firing  of  the  Confederates  was  directed 
mainly  upon  our  own  corps,  which  was  posted  on 
Cemetery  Ridge  just  south  of  the  Cemetery. 

The  air  was  full  of  the  missiles  of  destruction  of 
every  form  and  size;  screaming,  moaning,  whirling, 
whistling,  bursting,  and  the  fragments  raining  to 
the  ground;  not  a  second  passed  that  we  could  not 
hear  them  Sometimes  they  came  a  dozen  at  a  time. 
Often  they  penetrated  the  earth,  exploding  there 
and  sending  up  great  masses  of  soil  and  stone.  They 
struck  the  trees  and  felled  them  headlong;  struck 
/he  walls  and  hurled  the  stones  over  upon  our  troops 
crouching  behind  them;  struck  the  horses  belonging 
to  the  batteries  as  those  dumb  creatures  stood  help- 
lessly tied  up  to  await  their  death.  I  saw  a  caisson 
driven  by  at  full  speed,  with  one  of  the  horses  gallop- 
ing in  a  frenzy  upon  three  legs,  the  other  shot  off  at 
the  hock.  The  bodies  of  our  men  could  be  seen,  some 
without  heads,  some  without  arms;  others  torn  be- 
yond any  semblance  of  humanity.  So  fierce  was  the 
fire  that  soon  a  horde  of  camp  followers  and  strag- 


DOROTHY  DAY  277 

glers  was  seen  pouring  down  the  Baltimore  Pike  and 
scattering  over  the  fields  in  the  rear  to  escape. 
Meade  himself  deemed  it  prudent  to  retire  to 
Power's  Hill  till  the  storm  was  over. 

In  this  artillery  duel  the  enemy  would  have 
had  a  great  advantage  if  his  pieces  had  all  been  well 
directed,  not  only  because  he  had  more  guns  in  ac- 
tion, but  because  our  army  was  massed  and  concen- 
trated, thus  forming  a  good  target,  while  his  bat- 
teries were  stretched  over  a  space  of  two  miles.  The 
fire,  however,  should  have  been  wholly  directed  to 
the  one  point  where  the  infantry  attack  was  after- 
wards to  be  made,  but  although  it  was  hottest  at 
that  point  it  was  much  scattered,  and  many  of  the 
projectiles  passed  beyond  our  line  and  swept  the 
open  ground  in  the  rear. 

At  this  time  Hancock,  our  own  Hancock,  the 
indomitable,  "the  superb,"  at  the  head  of  his  staff 
and  with  the  pennon  flying  which  bore  the  trefoil  of 
our  Second  Corps,  rode  slowly  in  front  of  his  line, 
and  by  his  calm  and  splendid  presence  gave  new 
determination  to  the  thousands  who  were  crouching 
on  the  ground  under  the  pitiless  hail.  I  followed 
him  with  the  others  of  his  suite  as  he  passed  across 
the  field.  At  one  point  his  black  charger  became 
unmanageable  and  he  was  forced  to  dismount  and 
borrow  the  horse  of  an  aide  to  complete  his  review. 

How  slowly  our  watches  ran  during  this  dreadful 
cannonade,  and  while  we  were  awaiting  the  charge 
that  was  to  follow !  Twenty  minutes,  forty  minutes, 


278  DOROTHY  DAY 

an  hour,  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  still  the  fiery  storm 
continued.  Our  artillery  tried  to  return  it,  but  the  tar- 
get was  poor;  their  batteries  were  extended  over  too 
long  a  line.  And  now  it  was  found  that  our  ammuni- 
tion was  running  low — something  must  be  reserved 
for  the  final  charge,  so  the  guns  ceased  firing  and 
new  batteries  were  brought  forward  in  place  of  those 
that  had  been  crippled.  Hancock,  however,  who 
divined  well  where  the  assault  was  to  be  delivered, 
directed  the  batteries  of  his  own  Second  Corps  to 
continue  firing  to  the  last,  for  he  would  not  suffer 
his  men  to  be  "disheartened  by  the  silence  of  their 
own  guns." 

Pickett's  division,  forty-nine  hundred  strong,  had 
now  come  up  and  was  in  position  in  the  woods  just 
behind  Seminary  Ridge,  where  the  men  were  pro- 
tected and  invisible.  Just  north  of  them  was  ranged 
a  division  under  Pettigrew,  five  thousand  strong, 
but  which  had  suffered  severely  in  the  first  day's 
battle.  And  back  of  these  were  two  North  Caro- 
lina brigades  under  Trimble,  composed  of  twenty- 
five  hundred  men.  Thus  the  number  of  troops  for 
the  great  charge  on  the  third  day  of  the  battle  was 
little  more  than  twelve  thousand,  although  batteries 
were  to  be  pushed  forward  to  protect  their  flanks, 
while  two  brigades  were  to  follow  upon  Pickett's 
right,  and  two  others  upon  the  left  of  Pettigrew. 

On  Cemetery  Ridge,  overlooking  the  Emmits- 
burg  Pike,  there  was  a  stone  wall  which  followed 
pretty  generally  the  line  of  the  crest,  but  at  one  point, 


DOROTHY  DAY  279 

not  far  south  of  the  Cemetery  where  a  lower  ridge 
jutted  out  into  the  valley,  this  wall  suddenly  pro- 
jected at  a  right  angle  toward  the  pike,  then  turn- 
ing again  it  followed  the  crest  of  the  main  ridge. 
On  this  projecting  point  was  a  clump  of  trees  and 
southwest  of  it,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  the 
farm  house  of  Codori  stood  on  a  little  knoll.  The 
charge  was  to  be  made  past  Codori's  house,  and  the 
central  point  of  attack  was  this  clump  of  trees. 

Pickett  had  formed  his  three  brigades  in  two  lines. 
Pettigrew's  troops  advanced  on  the  left  of  Pickett 
and  a  little  to  the  rear  with  a  second  line  behind. 
The  cannonade  now  slackened  upon  both  sides.  The 
men  who  were  to  make  the  charge  marched  forward 
from  the  woods,  ragged  and  shabby,  indeed,  in  their 
worn,  rough  homespun  and  old  slouch  hats,  but  with 
their  battle  flags  flying  and  their  bright  guns  gleam- 
ing in  the  sun.  They  moved  with  an  easy  swinging 
step,  in  quick  time  and  with  great  precision.  We  could 
not  but  admire  them  as  they  advanced  against  us,  and 
I  could  hear  our  men  exclaim:  "Here  they  come! 
here  comes  the  infantry!  how  well  they  march!" 
Soon  little  puffs  of  smoke  issued  from  the  skirmish 
line  as  it  moved  on  in  advance  of  the  two  main  lines. 
The  Federal  skirmishers  out  in  the  valley  answered 
with  a  faint  rattle  of  musketry  as  they  retired.  Then 
the  Federal  batteries  opened  and  the  advancing 
troops  were  enfiladed  by  the  guns  on  Little  Round 
Top,  some  distance  south,  which  killed  and  wounded 
many  at  a  single  discharge.  But  the  ranks  closed 


28o  DOROTHY  DAY 

up  without  a  pause.  The  clump  of  trees  which  gave 
direction  to  the  attack  was  far  to  the  left  of  Pickett's 
troops,  and  when  they  reached  the  Emmitsburg  turn- 
pike, they  wheeled  a  little  to  the  north  and  moved 
up  past  Codori's  house.  This  gave  them  the  appear- 
ance of  drifting,  and  some  of  us  thought  for  a  mo- 
ment that  the  purpose  of  it  was  to  keep  away  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  artillery  fire  on  their  right.  But 
we  were  mistaken,  for  in  a  few  minutes  they  half 
wheeled  again,  and  resuming  their  former  direction 
pushed  straight  forward  toward  the  clump  of  trees. 
Pickett's  left  was  in  front  of  the  projecting  wall, 
his  right  stretched  to  the  south  of  it,  while  Petti- 
grew  joined  him  on  the  north,  one  brigade  in  front 
of  the  clump  of  trees  and  the  remainder  in  front 
of  the  retired  wall  sixty  yards  further  back,  while 
four  of  his  regiments,  which  had  become  separated 
from  the  rest,  were  still  further  north.  The 
Emmitsburg  road  ran  diagonally  over  the  ground 
where  these  troops  charged.  Pickett's  division  had 
already  crossed  this  road,  while  most  of  the  men 
under  Pettigrew  and  Trimble  had  yet  to  pass  it. 
Many  were  killed  and  wounded  crossing  the  fences 
and  walls,  and  others  sought  protection  from  the 
terrible  fire  by  lying  on  the  ground.  In  front  of 
both  of  the  Confederate  divisions  was  our  own 
Second  Corps  under  Hancock.  To  the  south  of  us 
was  Stannard's  Vermont  brigade,  belonging  to  the 
First  Corps  in  another  copse  of  trees,  a  little  in 
advance  of  our  main  line.  Behind  the  Federal 


DOROTHY  DAY  281 

infantry  was  the  artillery.  The  men  on  the  first 
line  of  this  great  charge  of  Pickett's  division  pushed 
on  until  they  were  within  about  twenty  paces  of  the 
projecting  wall,  when  they  recoiled  for  a  moment 
under  the  terrible  fire;  then  other  troops,  a  little 
further  back,  closed  in  from  the  right,  the  second 
line  came  up  on  the  rear,  and  all  pressed  forward 
together.  The  leaders  fell  but  the  men  pushed  on 
to  the  stone  wall,  leaped  over  it  and  over  the  sol- 
diers who  were  lying  behind  it  and  broke  clear 
through  the  Federal  line.  There  was  now  a  hand- 
to-hand  conflict  and  men  were  firing  in  all  directions. 
Armistead,  who  had  led  the  second  line,  put  his  hat 
upon  his  sword  and  springing  forward,  cried:  "Give 
them  the  cold  steel,  boys!"  but  soon  fell  mortally 
wounded.  Excepting  Pickett  himself,  only  one  out 
of  fifteen  field  officers  in  his  entire  division  remained 
uninjured. 

The  cannonade  had  destroyed  our  batteries  back 
of  the  projecting  wall,  leaving  only  one  piece  that 
could  be  worked,  and  Lieutenant  Gushing,  who  had 
been  fighting  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half  after  he 
had  been  wounded  in  both  thighs,  and  who  had  run 
this  one  remaining  gun  down  near  the  wall,  and 
was  now  struck  again,  this  time  mortally,  cried:  "I 
will  give  them  one  shot  more,"  then  with  a  last 
"Good-bye,"  he  fell  dead  as  it  was  delivered. 

The  men  who  had  crossed  the  wall  and  carried  the 
Confederate  flags  through  the  Union  line,  fought 
with  desperation.  But  other  Federal  troops  closed 


282  DOROTHY  DAY 

in  on  every  side  in  thick  masses,  swarmed  around 
their  assailants  and  fought  them  with  bayonets, 
clubbed  muskets,  banner  staves  and  whatever  else 
could  be  seized  and  utilized.  At  last  many  of  the 
Confederates,  completely  surrounded,  threw  down 
their  arms,  thousands  of  prisoners  and  a  "harvest 
of  battle  flags"  were  taken,  while  the  rest  fled  as 
best  they  could.  Fearful  slaughter  was  visited  upon 
the  fragments  that  sought  to  escape.  There  are 
those  who  say  they  could  have  walked  from  the 
stone  wall  to  the  Emmitsburg  road  on  the  dead 
bodies  of  Pickett's  men  without  touching  the  ground. 
Six  hundred  were  buried  there  in  one  little  field. 

While  Pickett  was  advancing,  Stannard's  Ver- 
mont brigade,  down  on  our  left  and  in  advance  of 
the  main  line,  had  wheeled  to  the  right  and  taken 
Pickett's  troops  upon  the  flank  and  rear,  inflicting 
great  damage  and  taking  many  prisoners. 

It  was  here  that  the  gallant  Hancock  fell.  He 
had  seen,  with  a  soldier's  eye,  this  point  of  vantage. 
He  had  galloped  thither,  calling  as  he  went  on  one 
of  his  generals  to  advance  his  troops  against  the 
head  of  the  assaulting  column,  and  now  he  came  to 
order  the  Vermont  men  to  charge  and  envelop  the 
enemy  on  the  rear.  They  had  already  begun  to 
make  the  movement.  The  fire  was  so  furious  that 
no  mounted  man  could  live  in  it.  Hardly  had  Han- 
cock come  to  Stannard's  side  when  he  was  struck  in 
the  groin  and  fell  from  his  saddle.  He  lay  upon 
his  elbow,  with  bleeding  wound,  watching  the  fight. 


DOROTHY  DAY  283 

Clasping  the  hand  of  Colonel  Veazey,  whose  regi- 
ment was  passing,  he  cried:  "Go  in,  Colonel,  and 
give  it  to  them  on  the  flank!"  With  a  long  hurrah, 
they  rushed  forward  with  their  bayonets  and  it  was 
but  a  few  moments  till  a  mighty  shout  from  the 
Union  line  announced  that  the  great  charge  had 
been  repulsed. 

Hancock's  wound  was  a  ghastly  one,  like  the  stab 
of  a  butcher's  knife,  but  it  was  not  until  the  battle 
was  over  that  he  resigned  himself  to  a  surgeon,  and 
shortly  afterward  he  dictated  this  despatch  to 
Meade:  "I  have  never  seen  a  more  formidable  at- 
tack. If  the  Sixth  and  Fifth  Corps  have  pressed  up 
the  enemy  will  be  destroyed.  The  enemy  must  be 
short  of  ammunition,  as  I  was  shot  with  a  ten- 
penny  nail.  .  .  .  Not  a  rebel  was  in  sight  upright 
when  I  left." 

Pettigrew's  troops  which  composed  the  left  or 
northern  wing  of  the  great  charging  line  had  been 
subjected  as  they  advanced  to  a  heavy  artillery  fire 
in  front  from  batteries  that  fired  first  solid  shot, 
then  canister.  As  the  attacking  line  came  up  the 
slope,  closing  in  as  if  against  a  blinding  storm,  the 
batteries  opened  still  more  rapidly,  and  then  our 
infantry  poured  into  the  ranks  a  sheet  of  leaden  hail, 
mowing  them  down  as  grass  by  a  scythe.  Their 
graceful  lines  were  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  smoke 
and  dust;  "arms,  heads,  blankets,  guns  and  knap- 
sacks were  tossed  into  the  air.  Their  track  was 
strewn  with  dead  and  wounded;  a  moan  went  up 


284  DOROTHY  DAY 

from  the  field,  distinctly  heard  amid  the  storm  of 
battle." 

For  a  moment  they  staggered  under  the  murder- 
ous fire,  then  they  returned  it  and  dashed  on  with  a 
wild  yell,  surging  forward  beyond  the  projecting 
wall  and  the  clump  of  trees,  till  they  reached  the 
retired  wall  some  sixty  yards  further  on,  and  planted 
their  flags  upon  the  breastworks.  The  whole  Con- 
federate front,  which  had  been  more  than  a  mile 
long,  was  now  compressed  into  a  space  of  eight 
hundred  yards.  But  as  the  two  lines  came  close  to- 
gether a  brigade  on  the  extreme  left  gave  away 
under  the  terrible  fire.  The  men  could  not  be  rallied, 
but  broke  and  fled.  A  withering  sheet  of  missiles 
swept  after  them  and  they  were  torn  and  tossed  and 
prostrated  while  they  ran.  And  now  a  column  of 
our  infantry  enfiladed  them  and  a  second  Confed- 
erate line  moved  forward  to  face  this  new  danger 
while  the  troops  in  front  were  sinking  into  the  earth 
under  the  tempest  of  fire.  They  took  the  positions 
of  the  men  who  had  fled  or  fallen.  Finally,  when 
they  had  reached  our  last  line  they  saw  Pickett's 
troops  defeated  and  driven  away.  Then  they  were 
ordered  back  and  at  last  retreated  in  confusion. 

While  Hancock  was  conducting  his  review  dur- 
ing the  cannonade,  I  was  directed  to  remain  behind 
near  the  retired  wall  and  my  orders  were  to  report 
to  him  the  events  which  occurred  at  the  north  end 
of  his  line.  Thus  it  was  that  I  was  an  eye  witness 
of  the  great  charge,  of  the  repulse  of  Pickett  and 


DOROTHY  DAY  285 

the  retreat  of  Pettigrew.  I  now  hastened  south- 
ward to  report  to  Hancock,  but  before  I  reached  the 
place  where  I  expected  to  find  him,  I  was  astonished 
to  see  that  Stannard's  brigade,  which  projected  out 
in  front  of  our  line  and  had  attacked  Pickett's  men 
from  the  south,  had  now  turned  to  the  right  about 
and  was  facing  southward  to  confront  a  new  danger. 
For  while  Pickett  was  in  the  midst  of  his  struggle, 
two  other  Confederate  brigades  had  been  sent  for- 
ward to  support  his  right  flank.  One  of  these  did 
not  follow  Pickett's  movement  to  the  left  toward 
the  clump  of  trees,  but  confused  by  the  smoke,  kept 
straight  ahead,  so  that  there  was  an  interval  between 
the  point  where  Pickett  struck  our  line  and  the  point 
where  the  brigade  would  have  reached  it  had  it  been 
able  to  proceed  so  far.  Stannard's  troops  were  be- 
tween these  two  points  and  Pickett  having  been 
driven  back,  Stannard  had  now  turned  his  men  the 
other  way  to  face  this  new  advancing  column,  while 
the  guns  from  Little  Round  Top  rained  destruction 
on  the  other  side.  There  was  incessant  firing  going 
on  when  I  arrived.  I  asked  where  Hancock  was. 
I  was  told  he  had  been  wounded,  and  I  had  just 
reached  the  place  where  he  lay  bleeding  when  I  felt 
a  sudden  sharp  pain  in  the  head  and  fell  from  my 
horse  upon  the  ground,  immediately  losing  con- 
sciousness. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

DOROTHY 

I  COULD  not,  of  course,  know  how  long  I  remained 
oblivious  to  all  around  me,  and  when  consciousness 
returned  it  was  hard  to  say  how  much  was  of  actual 
present  fact;  how  much  was  memory;  how  much 
delirium.  The  wild  scenes  I  had  beheld  came  one 
after  another  before  me.  The  attack  upon  Sickles' 
corps;  the  drinking  of  the  blood  in  the  waters  of 
Plum  Run;  Albert's  terrible  eyes  when  they  first 
met  mine;  the  artillery  duel;  Pickett's  great  charge 
on  the  following  day  and  the  field  that  lay  covered 
with  Confederate  dead — these  things  gradually  and 
mysteriously  transferred  themselves  into  a  huge 
hospital  tent,  where  in  some  strange  fashion  the 
form  of  Dorothy  seemed  to  be  flitting  to  and  fro 
and  stopping  at  the  side  of  my  couch  where  she  ap- 
peared to  be  watching  long  and  earnestly.  Though 
I  knew  this  must  be  an  hallucination,  still  I  was  com- 
forted even  by  her  imaginary  presence. 

Gradually  my  mind  became  clearer.  As  the  door 
of  the  tent  fluttered  open,  I  could  see,  as  I  thought, 
trains  of  ambulances  passing  on  a  road  close  at  hand, 
and  wounded  men  hobbling  by  on  new-made  crutches 
in  long  files,  going  somewhere — I  could  not  tell 
where.  I  knew  that  we  must  have  won  the  battle, 


DOROTHY  DAY  287 

for  I  could  see  our  flag  on  a  flagstaff  outside  the 
door  of  the  tent.  Then  there  were  squads  of  men 
in  gray  who  passed  by  under  guard,  with  picks  and 
spades  and  stretchers  that  were  laden  with  heavy, 
inanimate  loads,  and  I  thought  these  must  be  Con- 
federate prisoners  going  to  bury  their  dead. 

Sisters  of  Charity  were  moving  up  and  down 
through  the  rows  of  cots  in  the  great  tent.  How 
good  they  are,  I  thought,  these  Sisters,  and  how  our 
prejudices  against  the  Roman  Church  ought  to  be 
silent  as  we  think  of  their  self-sacrificing  ministra- 
tions ! 

But  Dorothy,  Dorothy,  Dorothy — could  it  be  she 
I  had  seen?  What  was  all  the  rest  by  the  side  of 
that  if  it  were  only  true !  Ah,  no,  that  was  a  dream ! 
And  again  I  sank  into  unconscious  slumber.  I  was 
once  more  awakened;  this  time  in  unbearable  tor- 
ment. In  spite  of  myself  a  great  groan  escaped  me. 
Suddenly  I  saw  rising  from  the  ground  at  the  foot 
of  my  cot  what  must  be,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  a  spirit. 
The  face  and  form  were  Dorothy's,  but  she  was  in 
the  garb  of  a  nurse;  her  checks  were  very  white, 
and  there  were  dark  rings  around  her  eyes.  She 
came  to  me  and  did  not  speak,  but  leaning  over  the 
cot  she  kissed  me  on  the  forehead,  just  by  the  side  of 
the  bandage  that  some  one  must  have  bound  around 
my  head. 

"Dorothy,  is  it  you,"  I  asked.  "How  did  you 
come?" 

"Hush!  not  a  word,"  she  answered,  but  leaned 


288  DOROTHY  DAY 

over  me  and  smiled.  Ah,  that  smile  1  I  had  heard 
her  mocking  laughter  many  a  time,  but  I  had  never 
seen  on  her  face  a  smile  like  that.  All  the  love  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Madonnas  could  not  make  up  its 
sum.  I  knew  all  now.  She  had  been  with  me  nights 
and  days — how  many  I  could  not  tell,  and  lying  at 
the  foot  of  the  cot  had  watched  my  slow  coming  back 
to  life,  and  now,  fallen  asleep  through  utter  weari- 
ness, she  had  arisen  at  the  sound  of  my  voice,  and 
at  last  she  was  now  mine,  irrevocably,  whether  I 
should  live  or  die.  But  from  that  moment  there  was 
little  doubt  which  I  should  do.  So  strong  was  the 
call  to  life  that  had  the  wound  been  mortal  to  many 
another,  I  had  in  me  the  will  and  power  to  over- 
come it. 

Day  by  day  she  sat  by  me  and  watched  over  me 
while  I  grew  stronger,  though  it  was  still  some  time 
before  she  would  tell  me  how  she  had  come  to  join 
the  corps  of  devoted  women  who  were  first  upon 
the  battle  ground  on  the  day  succeeding  our  final 
struggle;  how  she  had  found  me  unconscious  in  the 
field  hospital,  where  I  lay  wounded. 

Gradually  I  learned  what  had  happened  since  I 
parted  from  her  when  I  enlisted.  The  night  I  left 
her  she  had  gone  to  her  room  and  had  fallen  into 
a  swoon.  Ethel  had  come  in  upon  her  just  as  she 
was  recovering  consciousness.  Dorothy  had  ex- 
acted a  promise  of  secrecy,  and  her  parents  sus- 
pected as  little  as  I  did  myself  how  deeply  her  heart 
was  engaged.  They  would  have  restrained  her  from 


DOROTHY  DAY  289 

what  seemed  her  mad  desire  to  become  a  nurse 
in  the  field  hospitals,  but  her  determination  was 
fixed  and  it  was  quite  vain  to  put  any  obstacle  in 
her  pathway.  She  had  engaged  in  the  work  with 
absolute  devotion,  steeling  herself  to  witness  the 
horrors  of  these  dreadful  scenes  which  I  could  not 
myself  endure,  and  at  the  same  time  keeping  herself 
constantly  informed  of  the  movements  of  the  regi- 
ment to  which  I  was  attached.  It  was  she  who  had 
sent  me  the  newspaper  clipping  praising  our  conduct 
in  our  first  battle.  And  now  she  had  found  me  and 
there  she  was  at  my  side. 

There  was  no  moment  of  suffering  after  I  saw  her 
face  and  heard  her  voice  that  was  not  a  thousand- 
fold compensated  by  her  presence.  Those  hours  of 
painful  convalescence  were  infinitely  more  precious 
than  any  moments  of  careless  pleasure  I  had  ever 
known,  and  I  was  proud  to  feel,  even  though  I  had 
deserved  it  ever  so  little,  that  she  should  believe 
of  me  as  she  did  believe  with  her  whole  heart,  that 
I  had  done  my  duty  as  a  soldier. 

As  soon  as  I  could  clearly  describe  it,  I  told  her 
of  my  meeting  with  Albert  and  gave  her  as  minutely 
as  possible  a  description  of  the  place  where  I  had 
made  for  him  a  shallow  grave. 

"We  must  keep  it  from  Ethel,"  she  said.  "She 
could  not  bear  it." 

But  it  was  not  long  after  this  that  she  left  me 
for  two  days,  saying  that  she  was  called  away  for  a 


29o  DOROTHY  DAY 

little  while,  though  she  did  not  tell  me  until  her 
return  where  she  was  going.  Albert's  body  was 
found  and  sent  to  a  vault  in  Philadelphia,  where  it 
lay  until  after  the  war.  Then  I  went  with  it  to 
New  Orleans,  where  it  was  buried  in  the  cemetery 
where  most  of  the  Confederate  soldiers  were  in- 
terred, and  under  a  monument  whose  epitaph  recited 
the  soldierly  virtues  that  were  the  best  elements  in 
Albert's  character.  His  mother,  who  had  followed 
him  South  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  was  no  longer 
living.  A  number  of  his  surviving  comrades  were 
present  at  the  interment,  but  Ethel  never  knew  until 
all  was  over — then  I  told  her.  She  said  nothing, 
but  came  to  me  and  kissed  me,  then  suddenly  left 
the  room.  She  was  ill  for  some  time  afterwards, 
but  from  this  blow,  too,  she  at  last  recovered. 

But  I  am  ahead  of  my  story.  My  wound  had 
produced  a  serious  congestion  of  the  brain,  and  on 
several  occasions  there  was  a  recurrence  of  uncon- 
sciousness and  delirium.  My  convalescence  was 
very  slow  and  the  weakness  that  followed  it  made  it 
impossible  for  me  to  continue  in  the  army.  I  there- 
fore resigned  from  the  service,  but  with  the  deter- 
mination to  re-enter  it  if  I  should  again  become 
strong  enough  for  active  duty. 

There  was  now  no  impediment  to  the  object  which 
was  dearer  to  me  than  life,  and  my  engagement  to 
Dorothy  was  soon  known  to  all  our  friends. 

Owing  to  my  slow  recovery  our  marriage  was 


DOROTHY  DAY  291 

long  delayed;  delayed  indeed  until  after  the  war 
was  over.  If  I  had  been  earlier  restored  to  health, 
we  wouJd  have  become  husband  and  wife,  and  I 
would  again  have  re-entered  the  service.  Dorothy 
had  agreed  to  that. 


CHAPTER  IX 

CONCLUSION 

FOR  the  sake  of  history  I  must  retrace  the  steps 
of  my  narrative  and  relate  what  happened  in  the 
concluding  hours  of  the  battle. 

Lee,  who  had  watched  Pickett's  charge,  had  a 
moment  of  supreme  exultation  when  he  saw  the 
colors  of  Virginia  waving  on  the  crest  of  Ceme- 
tery Ridge,  but  his  joy  lasted  only  an  instant,  for 
next  he  saw  his  battle  flags  dropping  to  the  ground 
and  the  remnants  of  his  best  troops  flowing  back 
toward  him  like  a  broken  wave.  His  face  showed 
no  signs  of  disappointment  and  he  addressed  to 
every  soldier  he  met  words  of  encouragement. 

As  soon  as  it  was  clear  that  Pickett's  charge  had 
failed,  the  Confederate  guns  ceased  firing  in  order 
to  save  ammunition  if  Meade  should  advance.  The 
men  held  their  ground  as  boldly  as  possible,  though 
without  support.  The  Federal  guns  gave  them  an 
occasional  shot  for  a  while  and  then  let  them  rest. 

It  was  anticipated  that  Meade  would  make  a 
counter  charge  after  Pickett  was  overthrown.  There 
has  been  a  great  deal  of  dispute  whether  this  should 
have  been  done.  The  indomitable  Hancock  wanted 
the  charge  made.  "There  were,"  he  said  after- 
wards, "only  two  divisions  of  the  enemy  on  our 


DOROTHY  DAY  293 

extreme  left  opposite  Round  Top.  There  was  a 
gap  of  a  mile  that  their  assault  had  left,  and  I  be- 
lieve if  our  whole  line  had  advanced  with  spirit  it  is 
not  unlikely  we  would  have  taken  all  their  artillery." 
It  will  seem  to  most  of  those  who  can  now  review 
the  battle  in  the  calm  of  peace,  that  Meade  ought  to 
have  moved  up  the  Fifth  and  Sixth  Corps  (the  lat- 
ter had  not  yet  been  engaged)  as  soon  as  the  troops 
of  Pickett  and  Petttigrew  were  seen  emerging  from 
the  woodland,  and  that  when  the  Confederates  were 
defeated,  a  counter  charge  ought  to  have  been  made 
— and  that  if  made  immediately,  as  Hancock  inti- 
mated, a  crushing  blow  would  have  been  delivered 
that  might  have  well-nigh  destroyed  the  army  of 
Lee.  But  these  two  corps  were  at  some  distance 
from  the  point  where  the  charge  was  made,  the 
Union  losses  had  been  heavy,  the  confusion  around 
the  clump  of  trees  was  verv  great,  and  some  time 
would  have  been  required  to  place  these  troops  in 
position  to  return  the  attack  at  the  ooint  where  the 
gap  in  the  Confederate  line  was  filled  onlv  by  the 
disorganized  remnants  that  had  escaped  the  fatal 
charge.  Moreover,  the  success  of  this  counter  at- 
tack depended  largely  upon  a  fact  which  Meade 
could  not  have  known,  and  that  was  that  the  ammuni- 
tion of  manv  of  the  Confederate  batteries  was  ex- 
hausted. Meade  did  not  quite  comprehend  the 
greatness  of  his  victory.  In  his  dispatch  to  Hal- 
leek  he  spoke  of  it  as  a  "handsome  repulse."  So 
desperate  had  been  the  contest,  and  so  intense  had 


294  DOROTHY  DAY 

been  the  strain  for  the  last  three  days,  that  there 
was  not  left  enough  of  energetic  impulse  to  press 
the  charge.  After  the  first  favorable  moment  the 
opportunity  was  gone  and  those  who  upbraided 
Meade  for  the  subsequent  laxity  of  his  pursuit  of 
Lee  back  to  Virginia  were  ill  advised.  We  would 
probably  have  been  defeated  had  we  attacked  Lee's 
army  in  a  position  which  Lee  had  chosen.  For  to 
the  unspeakable  honor  of  the  Confederate  soldiers  it 
must  be  said  that  the  morale  of  the  troops  had  not 
been  broken.  They  attributed  their  defeat  entirely 
to  the  disadvantage  of  their  position.  On  the  fol- 
lowing day,  the  fourth  of  July  (the  day  that  Vicks- 
burg  surrendered),  Lee  had  concentrated  all  his 
forces  on  Seminary  Ridge  and  an  assault  would  have 
been  more  than  hazardous.  On  this  day  Lee  sent  for- 
ward his  long  trains  of  wounded,  and  the  rain, 
which  began  shortly  after  noon,  grew  to  a  storm 
and  fell  in  blinding  sheets.  The  meadows  were 
overflowed,  the  fences  gave  way  before  the  raging 
streams,  while  the  deafening  roar  of  the  elements 
made  it  impossible  to  give  orders.  The  wounded 
suffered  horribly  as  they  were  jolted  on  their  rough 
wagon  beds  over  the  mountain  roads.  On  the  fol- 
lowing morning  the  whole  bodv  of  the  Confederate 
army  was  on  its  way  back  to  Virginia. 

The  losses  on  each  side,  in  killed,  wounded  and 
prisoners  were  nealy  equal,  and  together  they  formed 
the  enormous  total  of  forty-six  thousand  men.  The 
Union  losses  were  slightly  the  heavier  as  the  result 


DOROTHY  DAY  295 

of  the  disastrous  conflicts  of  the  first  and  second 
days. 

But  Lee  had  been  defeated;  no  serious  invasion 
of  the  North  was  ever  possible  thereafter,  and  it 
became  a  mere  question  of  time  how  long  the  Con- 
federates could  hold  out  against  the  overwhelming 
resources  of  the  nation.  Their  heroic  resistance  dur- 
ing the  two  final  years  of  the  war  was  something 
superb.  The  "last  ditch"  into  which  they  were  con- 
stantly represented  as  retreating,  seemed  as  illusory 
as  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  and  when  the  fatal  blow  was 
delivered  at  Five  Forks  and  the  surrender  followed 
at  Appomattox — the  event  for  which  the  North  had 
waited  for  four  years — the  long  struggle  cast  quite 
as  much  credit  over  the  military  conduct  of  the  van- 
quished as  it  did  over  that  of  the  victors. 

We  were  not  as  magnanimous  after  the  war  as 
we  ought  to  have  been  to  those  who  had  fought  their 
losing  fight  with  such  courage,  determination  an'1 
humanity.  But  late  though  it  came,  the  entire  nation 
now  pays  its  tribute  to  the  splendid  personal  qualities 
of  the  men  in  gray  quite  as  much  as  to  those  of  the 
men  in  blue. 

And  yet  history  will  never  raise  a  doubt  as  to  the 
right  and  wrong  of  the  case.  Not  the  legal  right 
and  wrong,  not  the  constitutional  question  whether 
secession  could  be  justified  by  the  terms  of  the 
written  instrument.  Much  may  be  said  pro  and  con 
upon  this  point.  The  greater  question,  however, 
was  very  simple,  and  it  was  stated  with  a  simplicity 


296  DOROTHY  DAY 

that  rose  to  the  sublime,  by  the  leader  who  had 
borne  the  chief  burden  of  the  struggle. 

When  the  Soldiers'  Cemetery  was  to  be  dedicated 
at  Gettysburg,  I  was  sufficiently  restored  to  health 
to  go  with  Dorothy  and  witness  the  ceremony.  We 
had  seats  close  to  the  speakers'  stand.  The  speech 
of  Edward  Everett  was  to  be  the  feature  of  the 
occasion.  Lincoln  was  there,  but  he  was  only  to 
say  a  few  words  at  the  end.  Yet,  when  these  few 
words  were  spoken,  it  was  clear  that  nothing  else 
that  human  lips  might  utter  could  ever  add  to  the 
solemn  impressiveness  of  his  sentences.  He  said: 

"Fourscore  and  seven  years  ago  our  forefathers 
brought  forth  on  this  continent  a  new  nation,  con- 
ceived in  liberty,  and  dedicated  to  the  proposition 
that  all  men  are  created  equal.  Now  we  are  en- 
gaged in  a  great  civil  war,  testing  whether  that 
nation,  or  any  nation  so  conceived  and  so  dedicated, 
can  long  endure.  We  are  met  on  a  great  battle- 
field of  that  war.  We  have  come  to  dedicate  a  por- 
tion of  that  field,  as  a  final  resting-place  for  those 
who  here  gave  their  lives  that  that  nation  might  live. 
It  is  altogether  fitting  and  proper  that  we  should  do 
this.  But,  in  a  larger  sense,  we  cannot  dedicate — 
we  cannot  consecrate — we  cannot  hallow  this 
ground.  The  brave  men,  living  and  dead,  who 
struggled  here,  have  consecrated  it,  far  above  our 
poor  power  to  add  or  detract.  The  world  will  little 
note,  nor  long  remember,  what  we  say  here,  but  it 
can  never  forget  what  they  did  here.  It  is  for  us, 


DOROTHY  DAY  297 

the  living,  rather  to  be  dedicated  here  to  the  unfin- 
ished work  which  they  who  fought  here  have  thus 
far  so  nobly  advanced.  It  is  rather  for  us  to  be 
here  dedicated  to  the  great  task  remaining  before  us 
— that  from  these  honored  dead  we  take  increased 
devotion  to  that  cause  for  which  they  gave  the  last 
full  measure  of  devotion — that  we  here  hightly  re- 
solve that  these  dead  shall  not  have  died  in  vain — 
that  this  nation,  under  God,  shall  have  a  new  birth 
of  freedom — and  that  Government  of  the  people, 
by  the  people,  for  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from 
the  earth." 

It  was  under  the  influence  of  these  solemn  words 
that  we  consecrated  anew,  Dorothy  and  I,  our  lives 
to  the  service  of  our  country.  And  in  the  years  that 
have  followed  there  has  been  work  to  do  hardly  less 
important  than  that  performed  during  that  desper- 
ate battle.  In  overcoming  the  forces  of  public 
plunder  and  corruption;  in  resisting  the  oppressions 
of  organized  capital  and  its  insiduous  assaults  upon 
society,  we  have  borne  a  part  which  has  been  modest 
enough,  but  perhaps  not  wholly  ineffectual,  and  we 
can  truthfully  say  that,  apart  from  the  rearing  of  our 
own  household,  the  supreme  purpose  of  our  lives 
has  been  the  maintenance  of  the  purity  and  honor  of 
that  great  nation  which  was  re-established  by  the 
blood  of  those  who  perished  at  Gettysburg  and  on 
the  other  battlefields  of  the  Civil  War. 

THE  END. 


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